


Wreaking Havoc

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-08 05:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11639565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: Executing Galivan is the tip of the iceberg for Jim. How long can he hide the truth from Harvey?





	1. Wreaking Havoc

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes the timelines of all the seasons (1-3) and mixes them up a little. This is part one of a Lyric Fic I wanted to write. All mistakes are my own. All questions, comments, suggestions, criticisms and kudos welcome.
> 
> Thanks to my wife for letting me babble about Jim and Harvey land yet again. I promise I'll write you some Supernatural Wincest again soon! I just need to finish part two of this epic.

TAPES by Alanis Morissette

"I am someone easy to leave

Even easier to forget

A voice, if inaccurate

Again, I'm the one they all run from

Diatribes of clouded sun

Someone help me find the pause button

All these tapes in my head swirl around

Keeping my vibe down

All these thoughts in my head aren't my own

Wreaking havoc

I'm too exhausting to be loved

A volatile chemical

Best to quarantine and cut off"

 

**Wreaking Havoc**  

Anger consumed him at times; the darkness spreading over his skin and through his bones until everything was black and his vision only was pure red.  He went on long runs then; utilized the hell out of a punching bag; and worked out until he could barely move his limbs just to control himself from surrendering completely. He had taken an anger management course and barely passed. He had put in just enough effort to convince the instructor that he was trying and that they should sign off on his certificate of completion. When angry, Jim was enraged not only by the object of his wrath, but despised himself for lack of self-control and loathed the ‘system’ that was useless in soothing his fury. He wanted to explode; to attack and tear apart; he wanted to roar; he wanted to kill. All the while he was terrified that outsiders would see him for the monster he truly was. Jim Gordon carried a detective’s shield but he was just a hairs breath away from being one of the murderers he pursued and arrested.

 

No one saw his Gemini Twin; the face of his darkness and rage. No one knew how closely he walked to the razor’s edge. Not even his partner and best friend, Harvey Bullock suspected the truth storming inside of him.  His rage was why he couldn’t form lasting relationships; was why he held everyone at arm’s length and kept his own counsel.  He didn’t want the day he snapped to be a day he turned someone he cared about into a corpse. The important women of his life accused him of not being enough of a communicator; of not engaging in his relationship with them; of being married to his work.  The men were passing one nightstands; few and far between; not anything that could be counted as a relationship. Jim hadn’t had a boyfriend; before nor since; his days in the military. The closest thing he currently had to a romantic relationship was his ever-deepening friendship with Harvey Bullock.  Even this pushed the boundary of connection. Harvey knew the most about him that any individual had ever known; or come close to seeing inside of his damaged mind.  Jim kept him at a distance to prevent the anger from spilling over onto his best friend. Harvey clearly had demons of his own as he was a high functioning alcoholic.  Harvey was the next to the youngest of eight children, was an orphan, had two failed marriages and no children to his name. Harvey employed prostitutes when he was lonely, and engaged in short lived relationships when he didn’t. He confided to Jim that in his past he had a liaison or two with males “ _just to see what all the fuss was about”_ , yet had kept those encounters to a bare minimum due to his strict Catholic upbringing. Jim wasn’t certain that was exactly the case however, he took the words at face value for he wasn’t going to tromp into the dark corners of Harvey’s secrets unbidden, desiring the same courtesy from Harvey in return.

 

Half way through the recovery process; from his breakup and loss of a baby with Leslie Tompkins; Jim began to suspect that Harvey’s interest in him was not purely brotherly nor platonic. The niggling suspicions began innocently enough and snowballed rapidly upon his exit from the GCPD. The amount of texts and phone messages accrued from Harvey were staggering. Always at the end of each he would beg Jim to give him even just a thumb’s up emoji that he was alive. Jim hadn’t felt any more alive than he did those first life altering weeks away from Gotham. The darkness; his fury; had finally consumed him he broke; the first killing left him shaken, but invigorated him to near sexual climax. He rapidly put two more corpses under his belt before he could even take a breath that wasn’t encased in anger. The next seven helped him bring the fury to a heel, and he then became more calculated rather than opportunistic with his victims. He traveled the Eastern seaboard to stay away from Gotham, from Harvey; from any visage of his former self; and was instead empowered by his rage. When the texts became less frequent, riddled with spelling errors and sent later in the night hours, Jim elected to begin his journey back to self-control. It took him another few weeks but he returned to Gotham: leaner; haunted, and less muscularly cut. He rarely looked in the mirror these days and when he did he didn’t recognize the reflection of the beautiful monster staring back at him. He hoped that he could mask it before Harvey saw him.

 

They met late one evening at a dive bar where the lights were dim and the beer dark and bitter. Harvey embraced him like the long-lost brother Jim represented to him, cradling the back of his head in one palm, and patted a shoulder from behind with the other. He held on far too long past social norms, but Jim gave him his due, emotion abruptly clogging in his own throat at the sight and embrace of his friend. The rise of feelings was both surprising and overwhelming; leaving tears stinging Jim’s eyes which shown black in the dim lighting of the bar. He patted Harvey’s back and reluctantly let go of him and motioned to the table he had procured for them for privacy; to have a seat. Harvey did and removed his coat and placed it over the back of one of the extra chairs. Jim motioned to the serving staff before sitting down adjacent to his brother in arms. He couldn’t help but smirk as a heavy hand gripped his right shoulder and a warm palm gently tapped his left cheek. For a brief breath Jim wondered if Harvey was going to kiss him and was intrigued by his disappointment when Harvey didn’t.

 

“You’re too skinny, Jim.” He bespoke of Jim’s muscle loss.

 

“You’re too fat, Harv.” Jim countered acknowledging the extra pounds his partner had packed on in his absence. The comment wasn’t a jibe, but rather an observation.

 

Harvey held out his hands before placing them on his belly which his shirt barely closed over. “I had to drink all the beer and eat all the pizza myself.” He teased in explanation. “Now that your home; and you **are** home; I don’t have to eat for two.”

 

This brought a genuine laugh out of Jim and he reached out with his right hand and patted Harvey’s belly gently. “Tonight, we drink. Tomorrow we’ll see about the rest.” He had begun to pull back his hand when Harvey reached quickly and caught it in his own. His eyes glued to Jim’s and the smile fell from Jim’s lips as he saw true anger within Harvey’s expression.

 

“You leave me again,” he said of himself and not of their profession or the city. “and I will hunt you down and drag your ass back here, you understand me, Jim? You. **Don’t**. Leave.”

 

Jim blanched at the sentiment, shocked by his own remorse and his eyes teared up once more. He nodded thrice dumbly and Harvey finally released his hand. Harvey’s smile returned as the waitress arrived with their two beers and two whiskey shots each. Jim paid her and she left them to their drinking.

 

“I want to come back.” Jim stated reaching for a whiskey instead of beer. He downed the shot and turned the glass over on the table top before meeting Harvey’s gaze. “Will you have me?”

 

“No.” Harvey stated with little venom and a metric ton of pain. “The baby died, Leslie left; I get that. You had stuff to work through that I can only imagine. But Jim, you left me down at least two detectives to fill your shoes.” Harvey shook his head and pulled one of the beer bottles closer to him. “You can’t just quit on me and come back whenever the fuck you please, just because you know I’m your partner. Even if that’s how it could work, I don’t have the budget for it.” Harvey could see the upset and disbelief clearly upon Jim’s expression. “I’m sorry.”

 

“No?” the demand was sharper than Jim intended to permit. Harvey frowned at him.

 

“No.” He reiterated and took a sip of his beer. Upon placing the bottle back down upon the table surface he said, “Everything in me wants to say yes, but I wasn’t kidding about the budget. The new one comes out in October. Can you come back then?”

 

Three months; three months of having to exist without Harvey’s partnership. He should have never left; it had been a mistake but he hadn’t known what else to do at the time. He would have never fed into his core self if he had remained in Gotham. The anger had been too great to chance it.  Could he refrain from killing during that time frame? Doubtful; but he was trapped between his vow to remain in Gotham and placating his fury. What Harvey didn’t know would spare him; Jim could always disappear for a few days or so and keep in continual contact with Harvey. Regardless of how much of a grounding force Harvey was, there was no way now that Jim had tasted murder that he would ever stop. Galivan’s death had been the beginning of something beautiful and a blessing to his rage.  To remember that he once attempted to regret the slaying was now a joke to him. A punchline only he knew or would laugh at.

 

Jim reached out with a hand and touched Harvey’s left wrist, holding strict eye contact with the older male. “October then.” Easy to say but he felt tension vibrating in his very bones. If it didn’t show externally he had nothing to worry about.

 

Harvey placed his right hand over Jim’s and gave it a squeeze. “Once you’re back,”

 

“I know.” Jim smirked. “No quitting unless I’m taking early retirement or my pension is up.”

 

Harvey raised his right hand and placed it upon Jim’s cheek and leaned forward and placed a kiss upon his forehead. He muttered something that Jim didn’t quite catch; but he heard the title “Junior” at the end of it; and grinned. Harvey patted his shoulder and returned to his own drink.

 

Three nights later Jim had Harvey on his back in his bed and was fucking every breath out of him that the older male could surrender. Once Harvey had recovered sufficiently they would trade places and Jim would be the begging, tremoring mess, the same as Harvey. He needed to feed more than the darkness but for now exercise and sex was all he could depend on. Newly back in Gotham it wouldn’t be prudent to give in to his true nature just yet. Jim was strongly considering registering as a bounty hunter, so that when he was out of town seeking criminals that had fled he could indulge in his violent nature. Right now, however; he was intent on making Harvey beg for mercy that he would never; could never; grant him. Not now; not like this when he needed so much to explode.

 

Abruptly Harvey grabbed him by the face, held eye contact, urging Jim to hear his words as they struggled to break through Jim’s fury to tip the scales towards sanity. The frenzy of his thoughts stilled and he watched Harvey’s lips move, the words slowly coming into the foreground for him. “- a _little_ bit okay, Baby?” Baby. The title bounced around in Jim’s head for a moment as his body felt the definition of the word seconds before his mind could catch up. His rage softened, his throat clogged, his heart beat sputtered, he gasped nearly silently, and tears pricked at his eyes. Harvey’s head tilted to one side, his expression tender and curious, hands stroking the sides of Jim’s face.

 

“It’s okay, Jim.” Harvey assured him softly. “I’ve got you Baby.” Harvey leaned up and took Jim’s lips with his own and when he lay back down their eyes locked. “Shh.” He soothed, thumbs wiping at the tears now upon Jim’s cheeks. “Don’t cry.”

 

“I’m okay.” Jim stated through a sob that exhibited the contrary. “Did, did I hurt you?”

 

“No.” Harvey exhaled the word wrapping it slightly in a laugh to deflect the truth. “At this pace though? I think you’re going to break my back.” He chuckled and kissed Jim once more. “Just slow down a little. Yeah?”  Jim nodded and pressed his forehead to Harvey’s before slowly raising his hips, pausing for several seconds on the down stroke and pushed forward at a steady, lazy, pace. Harvey moaned and closed his eyes as he arched his head back upon the pillow. “God, Jim. _That’s_ the way.”

 

Jim smiled and continued thrusting slowly in and out of his new lover. The progression from partners, best friends to lovers had been a natural one. Granted, Jim had been surprised by Harvey’s bravery at finally taking the chance and making the move from jovial flirting to actual approach. It had never occurred to him to extend the offer to Harvey as he didn’t relish the idea of having to play down his anger any more than was already socially necessary. Harvey had seen Jim at what he believed was the bottom of Jim’s emotional barrel, but in truth he was still several layers from peeking in on the depraved depths of Jim’s rage and violence. However, if Harvey wanted to take the chance of witnessing Jim’s toxic nature then so be it. Jim now had a few short weeks before he had to worry too much about hiding his true face from Harvey along with everyone else at the GCPD.

~~~~~~~~

Harvey quickly realized he was exhausted, and drinking liquor soon became replaced by caffeine. Approaching Jim sexually had been a serendipitous mistake on his part. Touching Jim had flipped a switch in the younger male that Harvey couldn’t turn off even if he truly wished too. Jim was insatiable and Harvey spent most encounters trying to keep up, if not just hold on and ride it out until they were dehydrated and no longer able to orgasm dry or otherwise.  Harvey began to lose weight; which was a happy side effect of their coupling; and emotionally he had never been more ecstatic to be with someone as he was showing his heartfelt love to Jim. He was learning Jim’s secrets both emotionally and physically and adoring every moment of it. They spent most weekends barely leaving the bedroom, and most week nights having to be in bed no later than eight at night to not be late to work in the morning from staying up too late having sex. Somewhere in the middle of everything they managed to work, pay bills, shop, eat, sleep and move Jim’s clothes and a few belongings into Harvey’s apartment. Jim had only been living at a month to month hotel since arriving back in Gotham and it made no sense now that they were a couple to have two places of residence. Jim had Harvey’s only spare key from before he had left the city and GCPD, so the transition was nearly seamless. It wasn’t like most days Jim wasn’t there circling Harvey like a salivating marauder anyway.

 

Other physical alterations that were useful to Harvey were that he slept better than he had in years with Jim sharing his bed. He was more limber with a better range of motion now that he was so active. He ate less and healthier foods than he used too now that Jim was living with him. On weekends, they ate homemade meals or ordered out, while the rest of the week Jim threw together quick ingredients that Harvey barely had a chance to taste as Jim pounced on him for sex. The only time he had a moment to himself was at work. Even if all he had to do was pee, he went in one of the men’s room stalls and quickly skimmed the sports, metro, or business sections of the newspaper to catch up with current events so he didn’t embarrass himself in conversations with his subordinates. He wondered if conditions would improve or worsen when Jim came back to work for the GCPD in the fall.

 

Harvey rubbed his forehead at the thought. Even under the immense strain of keeping up with Jim’s appetites, he longed for Jim to be with him. He didn’t like the idea of Jim chasing fugitives all over the country, and frequently being gone for days at a time. As much as he internally complained to himself he knew he had never been more in love nor happier in his entire life than he was now.  Harvey lay his head upon his desk and ignored the ringing of his office phone for just a few seconds and closed his eyes. Jim was going to be the death of him but he decided it was one hell of a great way to go. October couldn’t come soon enough as far as Harvey was concerned. Yet, once it arrived and the bodies started falling he thanked the heavens that Jim was back on the force.  The murders kept coming across the division desks, and in every case the forensics would come back clean with little to no latent traces, and certainly nothing to tie the killings to any person or persons. The greater the number of murders the less direction Harvey seemed to have to focus his men towards.  With each corpse Harvey felt the snarl in his stomach become colder and colder with the knowledge that he was missing something important. He hoped that one drop of evidence would put everything into perspective but thus far the only thing it provided was greater frustration.  He knew that if it was bothering him that Jim was beside himself with determination to root out the killer or killers. Thus far, Jim managed to keep himself restrained and calm at work, at least with outer appearances. At home; oddly was a similar story. Jim would go over case notes with Harvey until the older detective begged him to come to bed a few nights. Their sex life flagged off then, but weekends were still conducted from the comfort of their bed.

 

To keep morale up, Harvey had his detectives work other cases around the serial killings; there was neither budget nor man power to support a task force: yet another sore spot for Jim and Harvey. The people that were dying were of little consequence to red ball the cases either. The simple, every day, Gothamites were too few among the butcher’s bill, and the city didn’t care if low life’s and the criminally inclined ranked among the dead. In all, the killings were barely noteworthy to the Gotham Gazette or Gotham news channels to report on.  The serial killer remained at large and bodies were dropping without connection past the violence inflicted. There was no other discernable pattern except the murders occurred either late at night or in the early morning hours; yet there was also no preferred method of execution. The only link was that however the victim died it was painful and oft times drawn out.  Harvey titled the killer a “sadistic fuck” while Jim was more reserved about his title for the perpetrator.  Harvey turned back to drinking to relieve his stress; or attempt too, because Jim turned to Harvey. Jim’s attentions kept the older detective on the shy side of tipsy instead of drunk or blackout central. Most nights that was welcome, but sometimes the Irishman just wanted to live up to his heritage.

 

The tumbler was just about to touch Harvey’s lips when Jim’s voice sounded from behind him. “Harvey?”

 

Harvey squinted his eyes closed resolutely trying not to feel shame at being caught drinking in the corner of the kitchen by the refrigerator and the wall. He was hunkered slightly, praying that he would have just a few seconds to down the three fingers of whiskey and go on with his night.  But no; Jim had discovered him and now he had to turn with a smile plastered on his face and not hide the drink behind his back. Instead he set it upon the counter and looked at his lover.  “Yeah?”

 

Jim glanced at the glass and when his eyes homed in upon Harvey’s features, once more Harvey could see the dilation of his pupils. He knew that expression; could nearly hear the growl low in Jim’s chest. Tonight, was going to be another one of those evenings where they were in bed at the same time most seven-year-olds were, but they wouldn’t go to sleep until one in the morning.

 

“I was thinking,” Jim paused and crossed the distance between them and ran his hands up Harvey’s chest, fingers of his left hand slipping further to comb through Harvey’s hair, before tangling in it at the nape of his neck. “I’d go for a run and then when I get back, you and I could,” Jim paused for a beat glancing at Harvey’s mouth before licking his own lips and finishing, “go to bed. What do you think?”

 

Miles; Jim ran miles so that would at least give Harvey an hour to drink and disentangle a few thoughts in his mind before being sensory overloaded by Jim’s passion.  Harvey’s hands immediately went to Jim’s hips and he grinned. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.” He leaned forward and captured Jim’s lips with his own allowing the kiss to progress and leave him slightly breathless. Jim devoured him when they kissed and it was something he truly enjoyed and was floored by every time Jim did so. “You go get all hot and sweaty and I’ll wait here to soap you up in the shower.” He raised his eyebrows at Jim playfully and felt a shameful sense of relief when Jim disengaged from their semi-embrace and smiled salaciously at him as he backed away.

 

“I’ll see you in a few.”

 

Harvey nodded. “You bet, Junior.”

 

Jim motioned to the tumbler on the counter. “Don’t drink too much.”

 

Harvey raised a solemn palm and nodded in promise. “I won’t.” Once Jim was out of the kitchen Harvey waited a few seconds listening to the front door opening and locking before he seized the glass off the counter and downed the whiskey in three chugs from the glass.

 

“Son of a fucking bitch!” Harvey exclaimed leaning his forehead against the cabinet and closing his eyes. The burn in his chest was achingly exquisite and he swallowed the sharp taste of the liquor upon his tongue. “Holy saint’s that’s so good.” He groaned and pressed his forehead harder into the cabinet. A second later he pushed away from the cupboard and opened it to remove the bottle of whiskey resting in it. He poured himself another three fingers into the tumbler and nursed this one, even going to the living room to sink down on to his worn leather couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. The table surface that was now clean enough to do so without worry of knocking anything to the floor. Since Jim had moved in with him the place was far less slovenly and much more ordered. Harvey closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the ridge of the couch and enjoyed the sound of silence in room, occasionally righting himself so he could take another sip of whiskey. He agreed with his mother’s one-time summation that it was the small things in life that made it worth living.

 

Harvey was blessed.

 

Jim was a curse.  As he ran towards the park he kept a moderate pace both working up to the apex of his run, as well as to keep from knocking anyone in his path over. The closer he got to the park the less people were around and he increased his stride by degrees. With the blood pounding in his ears to the beat of his heart all he wanted was to set himself free and surrender to the violence. Thus far he had been lucky; no evidence meant no suspicion thrown upon him for the murders. They hadn’t found all the bodies yet and Jim knew that he was going to have to switch up his modus operandi just to insure continual anonymity.  He knew that the forerunners of Gotham were beginning to take notice of their cronies and lackeys showing up at the morgue. He knew Falcone, Maroni and those like Penguin would be flexing their political muscles directly at the mayor and re-election funds. Soon enough the shit would roll down hill and Harvey would be standing in a maelstrom. One that Jim had caused, but if that wasn’t job security he didn’t know what was.  Eventually the opportunity would present itself to throw Harvey an arrest and cement him as not only a hero but a viable candidate for promotion to actual captain of the GCPD. This was something Jim wanted to see; would be proud to be instrumental in supporting him for; and now that he had set his mind to it he was going to bring it to fruition.  His turn with promotions would come later, for now it was Harvey’s turn and due.

 

Jim couldn’t help but smile a little as he pressed on faster and faster, his entire body situationally aware and vibrating with hyper focus. He was approaching a brick over walk that had a tunnel underneath to continue the paved bike/running trail. It was a prime place for muggers to congregate at night, or the occasional rapist and Jim was prepared to take anyone down given the opportunity. Unfortunately, the only resident currently hiding under the bridge was a stray cat and Jim frightened it just with his mere presence. The rat it was eating forgotten in a small pile of wet leaves. Jim pushed his speed higher and glanced at his wrist watch; he needed to get home to Harvey. There was still more physical activity this evening he was determined to have.

 

Six fingers down, Harvey was dozing contentedly upon the couch when Jim returned from his run. He didn’t stir right away and Jim stood above him, panting and looking at him sleeping. Normally he would consider allowing the man to sleep longer, but he was hard and his blood was up for sex.  Jim reached for Harvey’s belt and within seconds had the older male’s pants open and a hand down in his underwear.  Harvey startled awake and was a little disoriented but abruptly realized it was Jim touching him so he relaxed back into the couch again.

 

“Jim.”

 

“Hey.” Jim breathed now on his knees before the couch and between Harvey’s legs.  He gave Harvey a few lazy strokes before he lowered his mouth around the head of his boyfriend’s cock. Harvey cried out and bucked his hips forward upon instinct.

 

“Well, I guess we’re going to do this here, then huh?” Jim said nothing in return and merely concentrated on giving Harvey an aggressive blow job that had Harvey climaxing in short order.  “Jesus fuck, Jim!” Harvey exhaled with a near laugh when it was over and he was gently stroking Jim’s scalp and petting his hair. “You have a magic mouth. You know that?”

 

Jim rocked back upon his heels and rose to stand, first placing one knee and then the other on the couch alongside of Harvey. He lowered himself upon the older male’s lap and smirked knowingly at him. “And you’re the only one that it belongs to.” Jim confided leaning in for a kiss. He smelled the whiskey on Harvey’s breath seconds before he tasted it. It wasn’t that he disapproved of drinking in general, it was just he was trying to keep Harvey sober more often than he was drunk. For the older male’s health, but primarily for Jim’s benefit.  “Will you fuck me now? Before we shower?”

 

Harvey’s grin was lopsided and somewhat sheepish as he placed his hands upon Jim’s hips. “Would if I could but, we need some- “Harvey fell silent as Jim reached abruptly between the two couch cushions and withdrew a small bottle of personal lubrication. “lube.” Harvey finished taken aback by the appearance of the bottle. “When?”

 

“After the last time, we tried to have couch sex and needed it.” Jim shifted a little upon Harvey’s lap. “I thought it was high time to emulate you with a little out of the box thinking of my own.” Jim pressed the bottle into Harvey’s hand and kissed him. Upon pulling back he purred, “Fingers until you’re hard again. Yeah?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Harvey assured popping the cap open with his thumb. “It might take a little while,”

 

“I never mind.” Jim soothed raising up to pull down his running pants and underwear to expose himself completely. “I just can’t wait to feel you.” Jim kissed Harvey and after a few minutes of clumsy fumbling between the two of them they had three of Harvey’s fingers wet with lubrication. Harvey inserted two fingers initially and Jim arched his neck back, face pointed at the ceiling he moaned loudly and ground down against Harvey’s hand. “Yes.” Jim keened stretching out the word in pleasure. He dropped his head forward and pressed his forehead to Harvey’s and initiated another impassioned kiss. “So good, Baby.” He panted breathlessly against Harvey’s lips. “Mmm. More?” Harvey added a third finger when Jim raised up a bit from his lap. This elicited a succession of loud moans from the younger detective and soon Jim was pistoning upon Harvey’s fingers. “Harvey, _please_. Yes!”

 

Harvey began to kiss upon Jim’s neck raising slight little love marks upon the pale flesh. He knew that Jim enjoyed having his throat ravaged and Harvey was careful to make certain that his shirt collars would hide the evidence. On the rare occasions that they both got a few days off together he wasn’t as courteous with the placement and Jim blushed every time he caught sight of them in the mirror, but beamed with pride a breath later. By the time Harvey’s cock was filling with blood, he was four fingers deep inside of Jim and ignoring the hand cramp that was steadily heading from his ring finger all the way up his forearm. You made sacrifices for the ones you loved and Harvey knew he would do anything for Jim.

 

“Now?” Jim half asked half begged and Harvey rubbed his right cheek against Jim’s left, beard scraping the slightly stubbled flesh.

 

“Yeah, now.” Harvey directed and Jim reached a hand between them, scrabbling for a hold on Harvey’s cock. The older male aided him by slowly slipping his fingers free and then helping Jim line up his cock with his hole. “There we go, Baby.” Harvey huffed into Jim’s ear. “Just the way you like it.”

 

Jim was shuddering, thighs shaking as he lowered himself down upon Harvey’s considerable length and girth. His mouth hung open and his blue eyes snapped open, impossibly wide as he maintained eye contact with Harvey as he was drawn deep inside. “Mmm. _Yes_.” Jim barely managed to whisper as the root of Harvey’s cock was now flush with his entrance. Their copulating was steady, growing in intensity yet didn’t quite reach the frantic pace that Harvey surrendered against every time.  Jim came first and Harvey followed shortly afterwards, collapsing back against the couch. Jim surged forward and kissed him, ground against his body wanting to prolong their bodies contact as long as possible. Eventually however, he withdrew and they composed themselves enough to make it to the bathroom and shower.

 

True to his word Harvey washed Jim from hair to toe tips luxuriating when after they were dried and in bed that Jim straddled the backs of this thighs and gave him a thorough back massage. He was asleep in no time, only mildly aware when Jim shifted off him to lie beside him upon the mattress. Jim curled close to him and watched his lover sleeping.  He tenderly stroked Harvey’s bare back and toyed gently with his hair.  Harvey was his grounding force; his one tether to the man he was supposed to be; told everyone and honestly believed that he was. Harvey was also the one force in the universe that could prevent Jim from fully becoming the man that he was at his core.  He was the Boy Scout; the decent, law abiding, just man on the outside, yet inside he was something insidious.  A virus, a curse, a dark hunger that could only be sated by bloodshed. Theo Galivan had been the first life he had ever taken because he wanted to, and now that he had tasted this sin the more he needed to commit it. He felt duplicitous in a way that he was one of the investigators working the spate of murders that he had wrought; but then again, his victims were primarily those of the criminal element and he was; in a sense; doing his civic duty as a police detective. He needed to kill and being in Gotham meant that the butcher’s bill would be filled from the streets. It was an optimal arrangement as he could oversee the evidence and case incident reports and gage how safe or exposed he was at any given time. Thus far he had been flying so low beneath the radar that the theory of the killer being a police officer hadn’t manifested yet.

 

Jim pushed closer to Harvey and released a soft sigh, fingers twining in his hair and Jim closed his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Goddamn it!” Harvey exclaimed to himself and slammed a FBI profile folder; and yet another coroner’s report; down upon his file cluttered, paper strewn, desk.  His elbows leaned heavily upon the surface and he rubbed his forehead with his fingers. He heard a knock on the door frame and tensed.  “If you’re not here to tell me the buildings on fire go away!”

 

He heard the door latch softly and then Jim’s gentle voice. “It’s not, but you are. What happened?”

 

Harvey dropped his hands in frustration to the desk surface and raised his sour expression to look at Jim. “What happened? Upper brass is all up in my ass about these murders is what. They want a collar, which I can’t give them because _they_ won’t fork over the extra funding for a task force! I’m drowning in bureaucracy and bodies here Jim. They want results and if I can’t get them, they’re going to spend the money we could have used to find this sick fuck on a _real_ captain.”

 

Sympathy wrought Jim’s features. “You **are** a real captain.”

 

“Minus the rank and the pay bump!” Harvey challenged reaching for a bottle of antacids. “They’re sure as hell treating me like one and I have little ass left to prove it.”

 

“No, they’re not.” Jim stepped forward until he was before the desk. “Otherwise they would be taking you seriously and offering the task force.”

 

Harvey crunched on three tablets and rubbed his temples, groaning in frustration. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m fucked and all I can do is try to do good by my guys as long as I’m in this chair.” Helplessly he looked up at Jim. “Maybe you and Alvarez, one other unlucky son of a bitch, see what you can do? A task force of three is better than nothing.”  There wasn’t much hope in Harvey’s expression and Jim felt a little pang of guilt at seeing him so distressed. This was not how it was supposed to be. He would have to implicate his fall guy and do so soon to rescue Harvey’s position.

 

“Yeah.” Jim nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

Harvey looked somewhat relieved and held out a folder to Jim. “This is eyes only from the Brass.” He warned before releasing it into Jim’s hands. “Don’t share, but I can’t in good conscience have you heading the mini-taskforce without a read in.” He reached for his flask and unscrewed the cap. “Just return it once you’re done.”

 

Jim frowned watching Harvey down a couple of swigs from the flask before closing it. “You got it boss.” This garnered him a quirk of a smirk from Harvey and Jim felt slightly better.

 

“Well, I am for now.” Harvey admitted waving Jim away with sharp movements of his right hand. “Go make me proud, Junior. I could use a miracle about now.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Jim promised tapping the folder on the desk before walking to the door. He paused prior to touching the knob and looked back at Harvey. “Trust me?”

 

Harvey smiled affectionately. “Just don’t get yourself injured or killed and yeah, you know I’ll trust in whatever you do.”

 

Jim winked at him and exited the office holding the folder against his leg. The instant his back was to the door the smile vanished from his face and he strode over to his desk. It was time to put Harvey first and throw the GCPD a bone.  Victor Zsasz wasn’t going to go down easy but he was going to go down. Jim had been preparing to frame him since the instant he returned to Gotham and rejoined the department. He had followed the man and collected as much personal data and observations as humanly possible. Zsasz might be a fortress but he wasn’t impenetrable. Like every person he had his weaknesses; no matter how carefully hidden; and Jim was going to only exploit enough of them to get access. Once he had that, the mini-taskforce would do its job and make Harvey’s arrest.

 

Victor Zsasz knew bad seeds when he saw them, but Jim Gordon? That little fucker had slipped under his radar. It wasn’t like he had numerous interactions with the man prior to his arrest, but by god he saw Jim for what he truly was now. At first, he had refused to speak during questioning, deferring everything to his high-priced lawyer. The frustration and fury on Harvey and the other detective’s faces amused him.  Only when faced with Jim in interrogation did his tune change; he requested that Jim shut off the audio, cover the cameras and clear the observation room of Harvey and the others. He would speak, but to Jim Gordon alone. Against Harvey’s instincts and the protests of the lawyer Victor Zsasz was granted his wish; Jim Gordon and him alone.

 

Jim eyed Victor, features narrowed. “Go ahead; **talk**.”

 

Victor sat forward in the chair, handcuffs slipping on the secure bar, as he leaned towards Jim.  “I **see** _you_.” Wide eyed Victor gazed at Jim and canted his head to one side. “What I want to know is, why me?”

 

A slight smirk upturned the corners of Jim’s lips. “You are a murderer after all.” He watched Zsasz contemplate his response, giving nothing away.

 

“No.” Zsasz countered extending a finger in disagreement. “I am an _assassin_. Murder is beneath one of my skill and professionalism.” He narrowed his gaze upon Jim. “You’re protecting yourself, Detective Gordon. It will work for a while but in the end, you’ll fall like the cheap imitation you are. All your type does. And once you’ve landed? I’ll be there; **waiting**.”  The vow was made and Victor sat back in the chair falling silent once more. For several minutes, the two of them stared at one another until Jim ended the exchange by exiting the room. He immediately went to the observation booth where Harvey and Zsasz’s lawyer were waiting. The lawyer exited the room quickly to rejoin his client, while Harvey turned to Jim.

 

“Well?”

 

“We have our man, Bullock.”

 

Harvey released a breath he had been holding since Jim had brought Victor Zsasz in on the arrest warrant. He reached out and patted Jim on his shoulders, and grinned. “You’re my hero, you know that right, Jim?”

 

Jim beamed at him. “Glad to be of service.” Harvey gently patted him on the cheek and withdrew from him backing towards the door. “Keep this up.” Harvey pointed at Jim. “I’ll have a recommendation for you to be promoted to sergeant, so start studying for the exam.” Jim gave a slight chuckle as Harvey exited the observation room fist pumping and issuing a zealous, ‘yes!’ as he walked towards his office to announce the arrest to his superiors.

 

Jim looked back through the glass and saw that Victor’s lawyer was talking to his client. Only Zsasz wasn’t paying attention; or at least not looking at the other male but straight through the two-way mirror right at Jim.  Now came the difficult portion of the situation for Jim; he had to refrain from killing inside Gotham City while Zsasz underwent trial and imprisonment. Patience was a virtue and thus far it had served him well; he only needed to wait a little longer.

 

The district attorney fast tracked the trial and Victor Zsasz was found guilty on thirty-four counts of murder in the first degree and sentenced to the death penalty. At the sentencing he said nothing, stared straight ahead, allowed his lawyer to do all the speaking and only when the sentence was read did he react in anyway. He merely looked over his shoulder at the public gallery seating and looked straight at Jim Gordon, mouthed the word ‘soon’ and was taken away to Blackgate prison. Jim rose from the seat, straightened his tie and walked out past a flood of reporters barking questions at him and he gave absolutely no comment as he took the stairs as quickly as possible to where Harvey was waiting in the parking lot for him to go back to the station house.

 

“I heard on the radio.” Harvey voiced uncrossing his arms. “He react at all?”

 

Jim shook his head. “Stuck to his stoic demeanor.” This made Harvey chuckle as he looked at Jim thinking in that way how much the killer and arresting detective were alike. Jim got in the passenger side and Harvey in the driver’s seat.

 

“Well, thanks to you; I just might get to keep being acting captain for a few weeks longer.”

 

“Few weeks? Try a few _years_.” Jim groused. “After everything you’ve been through and done on the Zsasz killings? You should get an accommodation.”

 

“That my friend is for you, not me.” Harvey shook his head. “I was serious about that sergeant’s exam.  I picked up a study guide and pretest booklet. I’ll bring them home tonight and we can get started.”

 

Jim slid his gaze to Harvey’s profile. “Let’s get you a promotion first.”

 

“That won’t happen.”

 

“Why?” Jim asked concerned. “You’ve been told something I don’t know about yet?”

 

Harvey shrugged. “They’re bringing in division head from outside.” There was no denying the slight disappointment in Harvey’s tone and Jim reached out a hand and rested it upon the older male’s thigh.  “Don’t worry about it Junior. It was bound to happen sooner than later.”

 

Jim’s jaw tensed, cheek jumping with fury. “They can’t do this to you.”

 

“Not up to us, Jim. From the scuttlebutt I’ve been hearing, the candidate is a forthright type of guy. Just your speed: a real by the book, lover of justice.” Harvey kept his gaze on the road before him but reached down and placed a hand over Jim’s on his leg and squeezed it gently. “Name’s Barnes. It might not be that bad, having me back as your full-time partner, yeah?”

 

Jim squeezed Harvey’s hand in return and looked at his profile once more.  “When is this transition supposed to take place?”

 

“End of the month.” That left Harvey less than a week to vacate the office and take his old desk across from Jim’s on the upper deck of the bullpen.  “It’s for the best. The job was killing me.”

 

Jim seethed and Harvey fell silent, both men upset by the turn of events.

 

Death row. Victor Zsasz was on death row. Which on the one hand provided him with plenty of privacy and kept him segregated from the general population. On the other hand, he was on death row. If he had committed the crimes that would have been one thing; but he was innocent and he would not stand for being a sacrificial lamb in Jim Gordon’s fanciful game. The date of his execution was still off far enough in the future that he had time to devise an appeal of his own making. Jim would pay for what he had done to him and his reputation as some sins were unforgivable.

 

Harvey woke up and Jim wasn’t in bed with him. He called to him softly and there was no response from the bathroom. Harvey got up and shuffled into the living room only to find it empty and a small light on in the kitchen. He went immediately there but found it empty and a note hanging on the fridge which read: _‘Couldn’t sleep; went for a run. Home soon. Love J’_. Harvey yanked the note out from beneath the magnet from the city’s premier eatery, Gotham Grub BBQ, and read it once more before throwing the note away. Harvey yanked open the refrigerator door and pulled out a can of beer. Popping the top, he took a sip then headed out into the living room. He went to the stereo, turned it on and put on one of his favorite old Ella Fitzgerald albums and sat down on the couch. He put his feet up and crossed them at the ankles as he listened to the familiar hiss and pop of the analog recording. Nothing sounded better, even though Jim had found most of Harvey’s record collection on line and loaded it onto several playlists he could access through one of many devices they owned. Harvey preferred the old-fashioned route and used it as often as possible. To Jim he left the technology.

 

Laying his head back against the ridge of the couch Harvey sipped the beer and sat in the dark, allowing the music to transport him elsewhere. His mind drifted and occasionally it would brush against something work related. Harvey did his best to push those thoughts away, preferring instead to just relax and go with the flow of the music and the stories of each song. So, he wasn’t going to be captain anymore; big deal; he was tired of the headaches that came with the bureaucracy anyway. The constant pressure, the thankless hours without greater pay; all the meetings; the whiney complaints from his subordinates and higher ups: all of it wasn’t worth the trouble of putting on his suit every day and going to work. Now however he was back to being just a regular detective on the squad: Jim’s partner. No more meetings, no more getting chewed out by superiors on a regular basis; no more unrelenting pressure and the fear that he was doing something wrong that would cost him or one of his guys their jobs. He could now be just one of the cogs in the machine and watch someone else handle the helm and all the bullshit that came along with the job.

 

Jim was upset by it. He could see it in his boyfriend’s expression; hear it in his voice. It was just like Jim to want to see justice done by Harvey’s hard work all these months. He had stepped up and taken control when no one else would or could. He had protected the men under him and done everything he could to make their work days better. He had implemented a few programs that were successful and leaving a nice little legacy behind for someone who had only worn temporary shoes.  Jim wanted Harvey to be rewarded from his sacrifice as any loved one would, but Jim was particularly affronted by the fact that Captain Barnes was going to be assigned to the GCPD and possibly undo all the good that Harvey had done during his tenure.  Harvey deserved to be the man’s second at least; help bring him up to speed on the caseloads and assignments; the meetings and directives from on high.  Fair was fair and Harvey was not being treated properly and it irritated Jim to no end. While Harvey had first thought it was cute and sweet of Jim to care so much, now he was beginning to wish his lover would just leave well enough alone and stop complaining to anyone that would listen how unfair the situation was. Sometimes one had to go along to get along and Harvey had been in department politics enough to recognize one such example and this was it. He decided to bring up the subject again when Jim got home from his run; or perhaps over breakfast; and see if he could talk some sense into his bullheaded boyfriend.

 

Harvey’s beer was three quarters gone and he was asleep on the couch, the record had started over, by the time Jim quietly entered the apartment.  He smirked at seeing Harvey dead to the world and he moved quickly to shut off the stereo. After that he walked over to the couch and carefully took the beer out of Harvey’s hand and set it on the coffee table, before leaning down and gently kissing Harvey’s lips.

 

“Harv?” He summoned in a sing song tone. Harvey grunted and turned his face a little away from Jim. “Hey,” Jim enticed once more stroking aback some of Harvey’s thick hair.  “wake up. I’m back.”

 

Harvey sniffed and opened an eye reluctantly. “We’re not going to have sex again, are we?” He inquired hesitantly.

 

The question made Jim laugh softly and he leaned forward and kissed Harvey upon the forehead. “No. Come to bed.”

 

“That I can do.” Harvey assured with a groan as he moved slightly, certain joints popping. He grunted and looked at Jim’s features in the dimness of the room. “You gonna be able to sleep now that you ran clear across the city and back again?”

 

“Yes.” Jim chuckled helping to pull Harvey to his feet. “I feel much better now. Not so pent up.”

 

“You’re a freak, you know that Junior?” Harvey mumbled as he threw an arm around Jim and kissed him noisily upon his right cheek. “But you’re **my** freak.”

 

“And you’re mine.” Jim smirked kissing him upon the forehead. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

 

“Sounds fine by me.” Harvey murmured happily to be lead back towards their bedroom.  Jim deposited Harvey upon the mattress, tucked him in and then headed to the bathroom to wash up in the sink and put back on his sleeping clothes. He settled upon just the pair of boxer briefs leaving the tee shirt in the laundry hamper; yet another change of his moving into Harvey’s apartment. Harvey no longer kept a pile of dirty clothes on the bedroom floor in one corner of the room, or as close as he could get throwing them from wherever he was standing at the time. Jim turned out the bathroom light, waited for a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dark before crossing the distance to the bed and climbing in beside his lover. Jim cuddled close and rested his head against Harvey’s back, curling around him on his side. Jim closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

 

He could wait another few days before the need to kill would rise within him.

~~~~~~~

Jim Gordon had a boyfriend. This didn’t surprise Victor Zsasz as few things ever shocked him. He was worldly and jaded, and there was little he hadn’t seen or experienced that others considered appalling.  Neither did it surprise him just whom Jim Gordon’s boyfriend was either. The pairing made sense as the two males had been professional partners for three years, and oft times working relationships became quite personal.  It was good to have friends who knew how to tail two cops without being made and Victor Zsasz had hired the best; his life was after all at stake. His first line of defense was to plant the seed of doubt in Harvey’s mind about Jim and within Jim’s mind about Harvey. Easily done as long as he could get them to accept the invitation from his lawyer to visit him in Blackgate Penitentiary.

 

Harvey was the first to accept; oddly choosing the day for the visit as a day that Jim would be tied up in court testifying to a few cases.  Victor was hand cuffed with his hands behind his back to a steel chair bolted to the floor, his ankles shackled and attached to rings protruding from the floor. Harvey sat in another chair; also bolted down; just out of arms reach if Victor could stretch his arms or legs outward. Harvey sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest aggressively glaring at the criminal before him. They had faced off before and Zsasz had said nothing, leaving Harvey questioning if this would not be a wasted trip as well.  Victor eyed Harvey as well, but with far less aggravation and mere inquisitiveness.

 

“Thank you for coming Detective Bullock.”

 

Harvey grunted in immediate response. “Get to the point Zsasz. I’m a busy man.”

 

Victor nodded his head in deference and smiled as he did so. “Quite; I just wanted to ask you, what will you do when the killings start again?”

 

Harvey blinked once. He was here to play a game obviously and Harvey wasn’t in the mood to humor Zsasz, all the same he said, “You’re on death row, Zsasz. They won’t.”

 

Victor arched an eye brow. “They will. Most likely after I’m dead, but they will resume. I know this because I’m not the one executing them.” Harvey snorted and Victor closed his eyes for a few seconds bringing his anger under control. He detested rudeness and Harvey Bullock wasn’t the politest person in the world.  Victor took a deep breath and opened his eyes holding Harvey’s gaze once more.  “Have you ever asked yourself why it took so long for your little circle of detectives to look to me as a suspect? Why the evidence abruptly materialized after so much time of taunting you from the peripheral? Did you ever question that Jim Gordon was involved in every aspect of the investigation from the beginning, but only now condemned myself as the killer?” Victor canted his head to one side and regarded Harvey in genuine honesty.  “Have you ever questioned that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that you’re missing something of vital importance? You are detective Bullock, you just don’t want to see what’s in front of you; **who** stands before you: None other than your _love_ , Jim Gordon.”

 

Harvey’s face twitched in fury, his expression reddened and he leaned forward in the chair, resisting the urge to stand up quickly as he could not fling the chair backwards.  “That’s your game then, Zsasz? Blame the man that put you away? And here I thought you were much more original then that!” Harvey shook his head and pointed a finger at Victor. “You’re not fit to lick his boots. You’re done, Zsasz. Dead! And I’m gonna thank all that’s holy and every freakin’ saint in existence when they flip the switch and fry your ass straight to hell!”  Harvey rose to stand, the discussion over as far as he was concerned.

 

He strode purposefully towards the door and was about to pound upon it when Victor’s voice calmly issued, “You’re more perceptive then that, detective Bullock. Ask yourself about that doubt burning in the recesses of your mind. You’re questioning instincts are not misleading you. Trust them.”

 

Harvey barked at Zsasz to ‘fuck off’ and pushed past the corrections officer once the security door was opened. He was furious with himself for ever entertaining the thought of driving out to Blackgate in the first place, but he hadn’t trusted himself: the voice in the back of his head that warned him off it. The very same voice Victor Zsasz was asking him to consider. Cursing to himself Harvey picked up his gun from the sign out desk and barreled his way out to the parking lot and to his car. He should have stayed at the station house and caught up on paper work. He had not only wasted his own time but played into some sick fantasy constructed by Zsasz for reasons unknown other than to just fuck with Harvey, because he could. Harvey peeled out of the prison visitor’s lot and headed back in the direction of the precinct.  Fuck Victor Zsasz and fuck himself for listening in the first place. Fuck that fucking fuck because Jim was a cop beyond reproach and brought the fucker down fair and square. The evidence was there, the motive was simply that Victor Zsasz was a fucking killer and didn’t need a reason to murder other low life criminals. The fucker was conniving and doing anything he could to get revenge upon Jim for bringing him down. _Right_? **Right**?

 

At a stop light Harvey wiped a hand down his face and listened to the rapid beating of his heart. Why was he so upset by this? He had done nothing wrong, Jim had certainly done everything **right** and Victor Zsasz was on death row justly.  How could Harvey even for one second question that? Harvey slammed a hand down against the steering wheel and glanced at the passenger seat where Jim was usually sitting and he felt his stomach clench with cold dread.  This was ludicrous! Harvey drove to the first bar he passed and ordered a triple and downed half of it with a shaking hand. Fucking Zsasz!

 

Yet…

 

Harvey ordered another drink even before his first was finished.

 

Later that afternoon Jim frowned looking at his cell phone.  Another unanswered call to Harvey and he was beginning to worry. Where was he? His lover wasn’t at work and hadn’t gone home early according to others at the precinct. He wouldn’t follow up a lead without Jim, so that was out. Jim dialed once more and silently willed Harvey to pick up on the opposite end of the call.

 

“Jimmy! What’s hangin’?

 

His boyfriend made no sense and Jim frowned. “Are you **drunk**?” Jim already knew the answer but had asked anyway.  “You’re supposed to be at work. I got finished with court two hours ago. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

 

Harvey leaned his left elbow upon the bar and covered his eyes with his fingers. Jim was lecturing him; how could anyone question how upstanding of a citizen he was when he obviously was the boy scout hell bent on being worse than an uptight hall monitor?  “I liked the feeling of it vibrating in my pocket.” It was an honest answer and Harvey lowered his hand from his face and motioned to the bartender for another round. “You know what else I like, Junior? I like drinking. Yeah, I’m a little drunk but hey, if you had the day I had you’d be pounding them back too.”

 

Jim sighed. “I’m not angry.”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

“Harvey,” Jim reasoned affectionately. “Just tell me where you are would you please? I’ll come get you and we’ll have a drink or two together; at _home_.”

 

Harvey gave Jim the name of the bar, or some approximation of it and their call severed a few seconds later. Harvey set his phone down upon the bar alongside of his empty tumbler motioned to the bartender once more.  “Gus my friend,” He addressed the man behind the bar by his proper name. “I have about twenty more minutes of unadulterated drinking to do so please; be generous and attentive.” He tapped the rim of his glass with an extended finger. “Because once my partner gets here I’m cut off.”

 

“Maybe you should get ahead of the game and cut now.” Gus offered conversationally.

 

Harvey frowned at him. “Trust me. Once my partner gets here _you’re_ going to want a drink.” He pointed at Gus and the bartender did his job and poured another double for Harvey.  “Good man.” Harvey praised toasting him with the glass. “Also,” Harvey added before taking a sip of his drink. “He’ll settle up my tab.”

 

“Sure thing, boss.” Gus stated wiping the counter off and moving down to the opposite end of the bar to tend to a regular. Harvey frowned, Jim had said the same thing to him before when he handed him a file from the commander above him. Harvey shook off the memory and took another sip of liquor.

 

“Fucking Zsasz.”

 

Jim sat at the end of the bed looking over his shoulder while Harvey slept, face down in his pillow.  The bar where he had picked up Harvey wasn’t around any portion of town that Harvey would frequent; not his bookies, no bars, no friends or acquaintances lived out that way. The only viable location that he could have even considered visiting was Blackgate Penitentiary, and Victor Zsasz. The only question remaining was why? Was Victor talking now? Filling Harvey’s head with truths that Jim worked very hard to prove false? He had planted evidence, obstructed the investigation, perjured himself on the stand and was responsible for the murders himself.  Then again, Victor Zsasz was the enemy; a liar and Harvey wouldn’t believe anything he said. He would trust Jim always and remain loyal no matter whatever evidence might overshadow reason. Jim could place his everlasting faith in Harvey. Jim reached out and touched a hand to Harvey’s ankle feeling the warmth of his body beneath the thin sheet.  He had nothing to worry about. Harvey would never betray him.

 

Hours later when the bedside alarm went off Harvey struggled to open his eyes and grope for it. His hand contacted Jim’s forearm and he grunted, realizing that Jim was already up and dressed. Of course; did his boyfriend ever sleep? Groggily Harvey hugged his pillow to his face and gazed up at Jim with one eye.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Jim quirked a smile at him and stroked Harvey’s hair back from his face. “Yes. It’s time to get up.” Harvey groaned. “Well if you hadn’t drunk - “

 

“Don’t!” Harvey interrupted raising a hand to his forehead. “I know what I did.” He wasn’t used to as heavy drinking anymore it would seem, the thought made him frown. He lowered his hand, his expression plaintive and seeking sympathy. “Please tell me there’s coffee?”

 

“There will be by the time you’re up and dressed.” Jim promised with a soft chuckle. He held his tie to his midsection and bent over to place a kiss upon Harvey’s temple. “Time to move.” He whispered near Harvey’s ear and kissed him once more before withdrawing to the door.  Harvey watched the slight swing of Jim’s hips; his shapely ass; thanking all that was holy that his boyfriend wasn’t wearing his suit jacket yet. Harvey always loved the view Jim’s fitted trousers allotted him.

 

“Right. Move.”  Harvey mumbled of either Jim or himself as he struggled to roll a little to the edge of the bed.  Jim and caffeine were waiting for him.

 

An hour later Harvey sat down at his desk and began to slog through the phone messages left the previous evening for him and scrapping his attention span together for the morning briefing that his colleagues were beginning to gather for in the bullpen. From his vantage point he could technically just sit at his desk to watch Captain Barnes and his second; sergeant Jim Gordon address the men. Harvey was; surprisingly; not bitter about Barnes choosing Jim to be his second over him. After all Jim had passed the sergeants’ exam with flying colors and to be truthful was better suited to the job. Harvey’s tenure as the acting captain had been enough to teach him what levels of responsibility he did or did not desire and for now he was happier just allowing himself to be another drone. For now; he supposed that once Jim was captain he would have to take the sergeants’ exam finally for himself.

 

At the oddest times Victor Zsasz’s words would drift back into his focus. It had taken Jim time to find the killer because Victor Zsasz was adept at covering his tracks.  He was a professional after all, but why would Falcone authorize killings of victims that were also in his employ? One or two, maybe; but ten? That was bad business, wasn’t it? The evidence had not pointed at Zsasz until the assassin obviously got careless; or wanted to get caught. Jim holding the folder and tapping it on the desk; _‘I’ll see what I can do. Trust me?’_ Implicitly. Zsasz indicated that was the problem; that Harvey would be too blinded by love for Jim to follow the chronological events of the case to the truth. Yet they had the truth; Victor Zsasz was their man pure and simple.

 

Two hours later Jim was following up leads and taking care of something for the GCP Union, and Harvey found himself in the archives pulling the Victor Zsasz evidence boxes and files. He hated himself for doing this but he wanted to shut up Victor’s voice in his head once and for all.  _‘Ask yourself about that doubt burning in the recesses of your mind. You’re questioning instincts are not misleading you. Trust them.’_ The words buzzed and stung at his conscience and Harvey despised that he had doubts at all. This was Jim in question; Jim ‘fucking by the book’ Gordon was one of the good guys. Was Harvey missing anything? Soon the floor and shelves were strewn with paper and files. He barked at the officer in charge of the archives twice now to leave him the fuck alone and finally got his wish. Squatting among the chaos Harvey began looking at the evidence that finally brought the case to light.

 

In every occasion Jim had handled it at some point. That in and of itself wasn’t odd nor suspicious. Jim handled a lot of chain of custody items due to his status as a super sleuth; so, what was Harvey missing? _‘I’ll see what I can do. Trust me?’_ Jim had said that phrase and then shortly after Victor Zsasz made his first mistake and the evidence began to manifest.  After months of frustration and absolutely no latent or trace evidence; of anything, and Harvey needed a miracle which Jim then gave him.  _‘I’ll see what I can do. Trust me?’_   To save Harvey’s face in front of the top brass; intending to bolster Harvey’s position as acting captain to **actual** captain. It hadn’t worked but Victor Zsasz had gone down for the murders.

 

Zsasz had asked, ‘ _What will you do when the killings start again? They will after I’m dead._ ’ How could he be so certain unless he was either lying or truly innocent of the murders he had been convicted for? Granted he was a psychopath and assassin that belonged behind bars, but why wasn’t he standing by his kills? Because professionals like Zsasz didn’t take credit for murders they didn’t commit. It was a code that Victor Zsasz lived by and Harvey couldn’t ignore that. Given that rationale, what else could he no longer dismiss?  Jim’s signatures on the paper trail to Zsasz. Jim’s presence at every turn in the case both written and physical. He had even testified at the trial so how could Harvey question his integrity for an instant.  _‘What will you do when the killings start again? They will.’_

 

Would they?

 

Harvey began gathering up the files, scooping up paper and shoving it away a new avenue of investigation abruptly blossoming open before him.  It took Harvey the rest of the day and a few fibs to Jim, but by the end of shift he had begun to piece together Jim’s previous travels as a bounty hunter. Those he cross referenced with murders in those states and areas that particularly coincided with the types of killings they had accused Zsasz of.  Ultimately, he discovered that one quarter of the bodies that had fallen in the area’s Jim had visited, fit the time line and modus operandi of the killer.  Harvey’s throat closed and his stomach churned with cold revulsion.  There were too many to be a mere coincidence is what his instincts insisted. Was Victor Zsasz telling the truth? Could he possibly be pointing Harvey in the right direction? One that he had worrying at the back of his mind since Jim had returned to Gotham? Something was different about Jim; wrong perhaps; and while he couldn’t put his finger on it, why should he? After all he and Jim had become lovers upon his return and Harvey wouldn’t trade that victory for the entire world.

 

But would he on the word of a death row assassin and numerous dead men that only contributed to the crime in Gotham?  Locking the notes and printed report sheets into a drawer of his desk, Harvey knew he would need to keep digging. These were not accusations to take lightly, let alone sober. The moment he saw Jim’s face he asked him to go out to dinner at one of their favored bar and grill combinations and Jim readily agreed. He asked if Harvey was feeling alright as he looked a little pale and sweaty, but Harvey assured him that he was fine.  Harvey needed to forget about Zsasz, the murders and Jim’s possible involvement and just decompress.  By the end of the evening he was tipsy and fucking Jim into the mattress, angry and ashamed of his ever questioning how good and decent his boyfriend was.  Jim was beautiful and Harvey didn’t deserve his love, not if he were going to doubt him for an instant. When he came Harvey’s, tears were flowing freely and he was clinging to Jim and sobbing into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Jim was instantly concerned and began comforting him immediately, which only increased Harvey’s guilty reaction.

 

Jim kissed away Harvey’s tears and stroked out his hair and gently and his back until Harvey was in control once more.

 

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

 

“It’s all right.” Jim soothed knowing how emotional sex between them often became.  He had shed tears upon more than one occasion himself over flowing with love and gratitude at having Harvey in his life.  “I’ve got you.” He kissed Harvey’s face and rolled them onto their sides where they could stare into one another’s eyes.  “I love you.”

 

Harvey smiled dumbly and nodded, somehow finding his voice and managing to whisper the same in return. He sniffed and pressed his forehead against Jim’s. “What would I ever do without you?”

 

“You’ll never have to find out.” Jim whispered in response. He kissed the tip of Harvey’s nose and pulled him further into his arms.

 

Harvey clung to Jim and wondered for the first time if he could survive without Jim at his side.

~~~~~~~

Cracks were forming upon his façade. Jim knew that it was only a matter of time before extreme exercise and sex wouldn’t be enough. As it was he sometimes caught Harvey’s concerned expression. It always evaporated whenever Jim would smile reassuringly at him but he was worried that soon enough that would fail him. With Zsasz awaiting execution he could do nothing past surveying the hunting grounds.  Now that he was so intimately involved with Harvey it was increasingly difficult to get time away from him to be alone in another city. Too many questions; and far too many lies since they lived together now; and Jim never wanted to lie to Harvey: he did his best not too.

 

He noticed that Harvey was trying to drink more instead of content himself with soaking up Jim’s companionship instead of whiskey. For the longest time, he had been happy to merely be in Jim’s presence and drank less, but something was bothering the older man and he was reluctant to talk about it. Whatever it was the situation was painful as Jim could see that easily within Harvey’s haunted eyes. It was as if he were shouldering some secret and hadn’t decided to share the burden with Jim just yet. The time was quickly approaching when he would, but for now Harvey kept his own counsel regarding it. Jim knew a thing or two regarding keeping secrets; sometimes he ached to tell Harvey about the darkness inside of him but realized that wouldn’t be prudent. Harvey was a cop and would do the right thing by turning Jim in if he ever found out about the murders; and the necessary lies. Jim had only been protecting them, their newly developed love and Harvey would thank him from that he was certain.

 

The closer Victor Zsasz’s execution date grew near the more doubt pressed itself within Harvey’s mind. What if there _were_ another killing? What then? Would that be enough to convince Harvey of the truth to the dread seizing around his heart? Just what actual evidence did he have beyond suspicions? There was no tying the murders from the bounty hunter dates to Jim. Nothing concrete, and only handful of dates coincided. Just what was Harvey playing at with his side investigation? Every time he opened the drawer at work he was faced with the possibility and it burned sour in his mouth. He took to keeping his flask in the same drawer as a reminder to self-medicate because he was going insane. Listening to Zsasz over trusting Jim? What the hell was wrong with him anyway?

 

Harvey would gaze across the desk at Jim’s beautiful face and notice the harsh lines that seemed to have popped up overnight.  Jim had bulked up substantially with his muscle mass and even had to buy new suits and shirts, have them tailored to fit him properly. He wasn’t on a discernable health kick as far as Harvey could ascertain. He ate the same, didn’t take supplements or use powders of any type, everything was the same apart from how often he worked out in a week and what parts of the body he concentrated on.  There was an ever-present tension to his demeanor that Harvey had noticed, it had formed at some point before his return to Gotham because he was already engaged with it when he and Harvey got together. There was something further still, something Harvey didn’t dare question: not yet. He didn’t want to know.


	2. Basket Case

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything falls apart and quickly; can Jim survive it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of my Lyric fic idea. All mistakes are my own but feel free to point them out. Comments, kudos, suggestions, questions and criticisms welcome.
> 
> To my muse and wife, who I hope to never be separated from for even a day.

BASKET CASE by Sara Barellis

"I don't want to talk about it to you

I'm not an open book that you can rifle through

The cold hard truth that you'll see right to

I'm just a basket case without you

He's not a magic man or a perfect fit

But had a steady hand and I got used to it

And a glass cage heart and invited me in

And now I'm just a basket case without him

You're begging for the truth

So I'm saying it to you

I've been saving your place

And what good does it do?

Now I'm just a basket case

I don't say much and it'll stay that way

You got a steel train touch and I'm just a track you lay

So I'll stay right here underneath you

I'm just a basket case and that’s what we do"

  **Basket Case**

In all his decades of being a cop his hand had never shook when he trained his service weapon on someone. It trembled now and he couldn’t stop it from happening, nor more than he could prevent Jim from seeing it as the gun was pointed directly at him.  Harvey swallowed around the lump of emotion in his throat and thanked all that was holy that his eyes weren’t tearing up. As unbelievable as the situation was, he was honestly surprised he was standing on the right side of the law this time: of all times, just like Jim would want him too.

 

“Why?” Was the only word that managed to make it out of him.

 

Jim stood across the room, hands raised to his shoulders and shook his head slightly. “Because I’m a murderer, Harvey. I enjoy killing, and I’m good at it.”

 

The words made no sense and Harvey canted his head to one side as if to clear them out of his mind. “You’re, you **can’t** Jim. You’re a _cop_ for fuck’s sake!”

 

“Cops can be killers. We’ve seen it before.”

 

“And every one of those bastards is dead or in jail for life!” Harvey insisted taking a half step in Jim’s direction. Jim stood his ground and Harvey felt like his arms weighed a ton, yet he continued to aim his weapon at his boyfriend. “You aren’t like them, Jim. You’re, you’re not.” Words failed him and he swallowed repositioning the gun his grip.

 

“I know.” Jim admitted matching Harvey’s single step. “I’m better than them.  You’re the only one that could piece it together, the only one that could catch me.”

 

“Because you led me straight to you!” Harvey shouted moving another step forward. “And don’t you dare move. Just stay right there Jim. I mean it!”

 

“I know you do, Harv. Just like I know you’re a better man than I’ll ever be.”

 

“Don’t say that.” Harvey pleaded feeling the tremors alleviate a little.  “You know what I was when you first worked with me.”

 

“I know who you were _pretending_ to be.” Jim corrected lowering his hands a little to be more comfortable. “Just like the others; going along to get along; but that’s not who you _were_. Certainly, not the man you **are**.” Jim shrugged a single shoulder.  “I saw you, and I tried to be like you.”

 

“You have that backwards, Junior.” Harvey flinched internally at how easily the endearment slipped out of him.  “I looked to you as the pinnacle of moral fortitude. I looked to you and I always have. I only tried to be a cop again because of your influence. Are you standing there telling me it was all lies? That everything I believe you are is a goddamn **lie**?”

 

“Not everything.” Jim assured him softly. “My love for you; how you make me feel, that’s nothing but the truth.  And I used to believe I everything you did about me when we first met. Now Gotham’s hooks are in me; and what happened with Galivan? I stopped running from who I am.”

 

“Galivan? Penguin-“

 

“Was there.” Interrupted Jim. “But I shot him, Harvey. I not only wanted too, I made the conscious choice to embrace my darkness right then and there. Aside from being with you? It was the best decision I’ve ever made. I’m **free** ; _finally,_ true to my skin inside and out.”  He started to lower his arms more but froze when Harvey waved the gun in indication for him to remain still. “Don’t you want to live honestly, Harvey? For so long you pretended to be a cop on the take that the instant the chance to be yourself came around you seized it. Don’t you remember that feeling?”

 

He did and it had scared the hell out of him. “I think you’re romanticizing this a little too much Jim.”  He took another step towards his lover. “Being free? What does that even mean anymore? We’re all slaves to obligations nowadays.” He attempted to smile in an easy manner but the gesture came off more as a sneer. “Listen to me, Zsasz is a bad guy that belongs in jail, no question. But he’s not going to keep quiet about this.”

 

“He will.” Jim assured Harvey with a sly smile that reached his eyes. “Because he’s a dead man, and who would dare question a suicide on death row?”

 

Harvey’s features paled at the intensity of Jim’s gaze. “What have you done?”

 

“Nothing.” Jim answered honestly. “ _Yet_. He’s not going to reach his execution day, which means that you and I are the only ones that know the truth.”

 

 _‘What will you do when the killings start again?’_ Victor’s words swirled through Harvey’s head. He swallowed feeling like he was about to vomit. How could he even be having this conversation with Jim? It was surreal; impossible and yet here he stood holding a gun on the love of his life.  “That’s the problem Jim. He’s dead and then what? You and I go on like nothing’s changed? Like you haven’t killed all those people? What am I supposed to do when you decide that it’s good time to start up again? Because, you’re telling me you’re free and it sounds like you’re not ever gonna stop.”

 

Jim’s expression was one of pride in Harvey for getting to the crux of the matter so quickly. He always knew that Harvey was an intelligent man even when he tried to suppress it.  “Then I’ll disappear for a few hours and sate my need.”

 

“Just like that, hum?” Harvey demanded sorrow tinging his tone. “You said I’m a good man, and a good cop.” Jim nodded. “So, tell me Jim; what do I do now?” He shrugged. “Cause I’m all out of ideas here. I love you and you’re a killer. What am I supposed to do with that? With you?”

 

Jim’s blue eyes softened and Harvey thought he saw tears forming. “I can’t answer that conundrum for you.” Jim allowed gently. “I love you too: more than anyone I’ve ever known.” Jim slowly began to lower his hands once more despite Harvey’s warning not to move. “You have to be true to yourself. I’d never ask for, nor accept; anything less.”

 

“Don’t.” Harvey pleaded as Jim’s right hand twitched at his side and shifted backward towards the small of his back. “I mean it, Jim.” Tears stung at his eyes. “ **Don’t** move.” Jim merely smiled and kept reaching behind himself.

 

Harvey’s training kicked in and upon his next exhale he depressed the trigger and fired two shots off in quick succession. The impact of the bullets knocked Jim back a step and a half before he dropped to the ground upon his back.  Harvey was moving for him instantly, holstering his gun and pressing his hands to Jim’s chest to apply direct pressure to his wounds.  His eyes were full of tears, his heart was in his throat and his stomach had dropped out of his bowels at some juncture. He was panicking but managed to reach for his phone and dial 911 for assistance. He recited his name, badge number, address, and request for ambulance and police before he severed the call and concentrated on Jim once more.

 

“Why the fuck did you make me shoot you? Jesus fuck, Jim!”

 

Jim’s breath was coming in wet gasps and gargles, and Harvey could feel the blood thick upon his hands; in between his fingers. “I’m. So. Proud. Of you.” Jim praised touching a hand to one of Harvey’s. Harvey leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jim’s cheek near his ear.

 

“You stupid, stupid, bastard.” He sobbed and tried to keep breathing; as long as Jim was breathing with him then he would survive. “I love you. So, don’t you even **think** about dying!”

 

Jim laughed, the sound more like a groan but he whispered to Harvey, “I would have never used it on you.” With that Jim fell silent and Harvey’s gut churned as he lifted one of his hands and felt around and underneath the small of Jim’s back. The nine-millimeter was there and he left it where it was for now and broke down.

 

He heard sirens coming closer and when the Uniformed officers arrived he had them break in the door. The paramedics were close behind and only then did Harvey move away from Jim, and watched from the sidelines with the police officers. One of which had Jim’s gun in an evidence bag and Harvey’s in another.  The Uniforms gave Harvey a courtesy ride to the hospital behind the ambulance before calling the situation into the switchboard for their superiors to dispatch investigating detectives.  Their questions he answered numbly, not certain what to say so he went with the agonizing truth. The two men were in the middle of an argument when Jim admitted to intending to kill Victor Zsasz, before reaching for his service weapon when confronted.  If the Internal Affairs detectives believed Harvey was withholding further information he didn’t care. For now, he would stick solely to the facts of their recent exchange. What else could he do? Tell them that Jim admitted to being a serial killer? As it was he would be under investigation and whatever was turned up in due course of that Harvey couldn’t control.

 

He had shot Jim. As Harvey waited for Jim to come out of surgery he attempted to drink coffee and answer questions willfully, even despite his legal representation’s advice not too. The entire while his hands wouldn’t stop shaking and Harvey was beginning to think that they never would.  It was just a few hours after midnight when the surgeon came out to update Harvey and the others on Jim’s prognosis.  If he lived through the next twenty-four hours he had a good chance of recovering.  Uniformed officers were posted outside of his room so that I.A. could speak with him the moment he was lucid enough to be interrogated. Harvey had already requested a lawyer be sent to represent Jim during the interviews. He also charmed his way into Jim’s room without his superiors knowing he had done so.  It was just a little bit before dawn that Harvey felt Jim’s fingers twitch beneath his own. Harvey’s head shot up and he leaned towards the bed and his prone lover.

 

“Hey.” Harvey greeted gently from Jim’s right side. “Do you want me to go?” Tears shown in Harvey’s eyes. How had they come to this? Jim gripped Harvey’s hand tightly in his own and tugged at it indicating that he wanted Harvey closer.  “Good. I’ll stay.” The pressure that Jim exerted around Harvey’s fingers relaxed.  Harvey rose from the chair and leaned forward and placed a tender kiss upon Jim’s forehead. “You dumbass, son of a bitch. I never should have questioned your integrity in the first place.” Harvey closed his eyes. “How could I be so stupid?” He opened his eyes and a few tears leaked down his cheeks and Jim’s watered just gazing at him. Harvey stroked Jim’s hair back and pulled back enough to give him a tender smile.  “I love you. That won’t change.”  Jim nodded and Harvey took that to mean that Jim knew it wouldn’t cease his affection for him. He was thankful that Jim wasn’t speaking to dispel that hope.

 

There was a movement in the room and Captain Barnes’ voice could be heard loud and clear. “Detective Bullock, what are you doing in here? You know damn well that until Gordon is questioned by Internal Affairs you’re forbidden contact.”

 

“Yes, sir. I do know that.” Harvey straightened his form completely and squeezed Jim’s hand tenderly one last time. “I also know that Jim’s been my partner for almost four years now and firing at one another or not, I’m going to want to know that he’s okay.”

 

Harvey could see one of the veins in Barnes’ bald head jump. “He’s breathing, and you’re dismissed. In seventy-two hours, you’ll be reinstated to active duty pending I.A.’s ruling. Until that time, I suggest you go home and attend to your affairs.”

 

Harvey and Jim grunted in unison at this and Harvey cast Jim a glance over his shoulder and reluctantly slipped his hand from Jim’s. “Yes, sir. But you are aware that Detective Gordon and I share a residence so, I’ll be readily accessible during the investigation.” He nodded to Captain Barnes in deference and moved to exit the room, pausing just past Barnes to address Jim. “I’ll see you soon partner.” With that he reluctantly left the room. Once outside he looked from one Uniformed officer to the other. “The moment Barnes is gone text me, will you? Jim shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

 

The officers agreed that they would do so and Harvey turned and moved down the hallway to find out if the hospital cafeteria wasn’t open where he could grab a cup of coffee nearby.  It was half a day, and numerous one sided conversations later that Internal Affairs finally made an appearance and Harvey temporarily left Jim’s side.  He was fortunate that one of the Uniforms gave him a heads up so he could sneak out undetected. Jim was still in critical condition but stable, and thus far had been responding well to treatment. They weren’t out of the woods yet but the doctors were hopeful and Jim seemed determined to live. Of this Harvey was ever grateful.

 

The Gotham streets looked even grayer and shadowed than usual to Harvey. His heart was heavy and he was exhausted by the chain of events that lead him here, to Oswald Cobblepot’s Umbrella club. While Oswald didn’t appear to appreciate being disturbed by a detective of Harvey’s ilk, he perked up immediately when Harvey mentioned Jim and the Galivan killing. At first Penguin feigned ignorance until Harvey admitted that Jim had told him about the shooting and how he had been the one to pull the trigger. This actually made the man momentarily speechless when Harvey added, “Jim’s your friend; probably the only true one you’ve got. Everyone here knows it, and I sure as hell do. He’s in trouble and here’s what you’re going to do to help him out,”

 

“Detective Bullock, while I appreciate- “

 

“Please.” Harvey said with genuine politeness. “Listen to what I have to say then decide from there, but first; hear me out.” Harvey took a breath and then informed Cobblepot that Jim was most assuredly going to prison and this time he wasn’t innocent. He then told Penguin that Jim had also framed Victor Zsasz and was intent upon killing him prior to his execution date. All Harvey wanted from Cobblepot was to rescue his friend; see that he didn’t reach the Blackgate Penitentiary and that he had means to relocate from Gotham and go into hiding for a while. In return, he would not only receive Jim’s undying gratitude and friendship, but professionally own Harvey’s unquestioning loyalty.  The prospect appeared to immediately appeal to Cobblepot and he regarded Harvey for a long stretch of tense silence.

 

“I gather this is a sampling of what your loyalty entails those you serve, Detective Bullock? Because your devotion to James Gordon is indeed, legendary. I just want to ensure that I can expect the same.”

 

Harvey’s jaw tensed and he pressed his lips together in a thin, bloodless line before daring to answer. “Jim’s my partner; I can depend on him to have my back, and you can certainly depend on me to have yours.” It cost him greatly to say this, another distant memory of a promise made to Carmine Falcone the first time Jim had ended up in Blackgate. He was still paying off that due so what was another soul shattering one?  In the end, it was for Jim and Harvey would; apparently; still do anything for the man he loved: even if it was to re-sale a soul that he no longer had to begin with.

 

“Then I agree. Give my man Gilzean the details and I’ll make certain James is spared an unpleasant stay at Blackgate.” Cobblepot gave a small shudder at the thought and rose from the table signaling the end to their exchange. “I will call on you shortly Detective Bullock, I look forward to our association.”

 

“As do I.” Harvey responded aware that Penguin thrived on polite pleasantries and a little went a long way with him. Especially since he knew that Harvey was not the most socially proper gentleman of Gotham. Yet for Jim, Harvey would even swallow what little pride he had left and kiss some smarmy, psychotic, ass just to save him.  Predictably Penguin brightened at this and Harvey showed himself to the door, upon giving Butch Gilzean his contact information and instructions; once more he was polite enough as not to rankle any feathers of sorts and exited into the sunlight.  It was a cool day and he barely felt the sun’s rays as he moved down the street and to his car.  Eventually he would need sleep but for now he just wanted to return to the hospital and Jim.  Utterly exhausted he slept through the warning text from the Uniformed officers and was caught by Internal Affairs slumbering in a chair bedside of the man he shot. Jim woke up at the commotion of them telling Harvey to leave, while Jim’s counsel moved to his opposite bedside to advise.  Jim called to Harvey. Harvey then assured Jim that he had his back, and essentially those were the last words the two spoke to one another.  Jim was in the hospital under arrest pending transport to Blackgate and Harvey was reinstated to active duty and given his gun back.

 

Being at work was utter misery for Harvey because he was seated across from Jim’s desk and everything about the job reminded him of his partner and boyfriend. He refused to say word one to anyone that wished to question him about what really happened the night Harvey Bullock shot Jim Gordon; something quite a few detectives wished they had done a long time ago. Harvey was involved in no less than three fist fights the first week back to work alone. These were thankfully unreported to; or witnessed by; Captain Barnes.  The rumor mill was working overtime and once the truth of Jim and Harvey’s living situation was added to the mix, it went into maximum overdrive. Someone painted the lovely slur of ‘faggot’ on Jim’s locker and Harvey spent almost two hours scrubbing it off and fuming. He endured cat calls and offers for sucking this or that person’s cock. Harvey swallowed the harassment knowing it was the last of his worries and he was desperate to see and talk to Jim. People that would be normal avenues to that pipe line of communication were uncharacteristically shut down and refused him.

 

Barnes or the scare of being pulled into an Internal Affairs investigation was what prevented them from helping Harvey, and for the first time in four years he felt truly alone.  Harvey was desperate to talk to Jim; to reassure him that he still loved him and missed him; to ask what he had said to I.A. but he was stymied at every turn. The rumors circulated that Jim had admitted to Theo Galivan’s murder and a host of others. Harvey was terrified that the rumors were true but had no friends willing to confirm or deny I.A.’s official words on the matter.  Harvey barely slept, barely ate, and spent all his free time trying to convince someone; anyone to help him see Jim.  Butch Gilzean contacted him two weeks into Jim’s recuperation and he was instructed to do his first favor for Penguin.  Completely numb Harvey obeyed. What was another crime added to his list of sins? Nothing mattered to Harvey anymore past talking to and seeing Jim.

 

Jim exhausted himself by calculating every word he said to I.A., his counsel and the assistant district attorney.  He was still healing from grievous injuries but he was on task to get himself sent to Blackgate. This time it would be different than when he had played the innocent victim; truly believed that he was helpless against the circumstances. This time he knew exactly what he was walking into and why. Victor Zsasz needed to be silenced and Jim was determined to sever his vocal chords for good.  As he grew stronger he refused to think about Harvey; to wonder about him or have a moment of weakness where he missed him. He needed to remain focused and for now he was like a laser beam straight into space.  Harvey; for now; was a distant memory he dared not examine for fear of being paralyzed with grief. Harvey couldn’t matter and therefore didn’t.

 

Near the third week mark Jim was set to be transported from the hospital to the infirmary of Blackgate Penitentiary for the remainder of his recovery.  The transfer would be conducted in the early hours of the morning to ensure less danger to civilian traffic or swarming of the press.  He was shackled at hand and foot, secured to a wheel chair and brought out the back-ambulance bay of the hospital straight into the back of the transport vehicle.  Jim was then sat and waited patiently as he was driven to the prison; two correction officers in the front of the van, and two in the rear with him, fully armed and wearing their protective riot gear.  While Jim thought this was odd the strangeness of it didn’t panic him; he was after all considered a dangerous criminal and he knew how to fight in ways the police were not usually trained to fight against.

 

It wasn’t until the armored van came to a screeching halt nearly throwing Jim onto his side, that he realized something was wrong.  He heard gun shots and shouting but the two officers in the back with him merely kept their seats and stared at him. Only when the doors unlatched and swung open did they stand and face the would-be intruders, shotguns raised at the ready.  Upon seeing Butch Gilzean they lowered their weapons and moved to unlock Jim’s restraints.

 

“Jim Gordon, today’s your lucky day!” Butch greeted as the officers helped Jim to his feet and took him to the mouth of the armored van. They jumped down to the ground and reached out for Jim to follow, making certain nothing jarred him and he was assisted all the way down to stand.  “On behalf of my boss and your very good friend, Oswald Cobblepot, welcome to your new life.” He shook Jim’s hand and snapped his fingers at another man to step forward. He had a back pack which he unshouldered at Gilzean’s command.  “In here’s a new identity and some green to get you started. Joe here’s going to drive you through Wisconsin, and off load you at the Canadian border. Neat huh?”

 

Jim stared at Butch his mind reeling. “Oswald? Why?”

 

“Don’t you know that Mr. Cobblepot is extremely generous to his friends and you, **are** his friend. _Aren’t_ you Gordon?”

 

“Right.” Jim allowed suspiciously looking from one man to the next sizing them up. He was still too injured to fight but he was also not about to trust these lunatics who worked for a sociopath. “What’s the cost of doing business?” He demanded trying to sound casual.

 

Butch shouldered his shotgun upon his left shoulder and shrugged. “Nothing for his friends, but professional colleagues like say, Detective Bullock? That’s another story.”  Jim felt his stomach clinch in overwhelming agony, so severe that it almost knocked the breath out of him. He struggled to cover it, leaning forward slightly and Butch reached out to him with a hand. “You okay there, Gordon? You don’t look so good. You should get going. Hey Joe, help our guest here to the car and go easy on the pot holes, yeah?”

 

The man with the backpack took steps towards Jim and Jim seized Gilzean by the forearm, surprising the large man with the strength at which he griped him.  “He’s got Bullock on his payroll?”

 

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, your boy volunteered. He’s working for Mr. Cobblepot now; body, and soul, bought and paid for with your freedom.” Butch patted Jim upon the shoulder. “Have a good life there Gordon. It was kinda nice knowing you.” Gilzean motioned to Joe who once more moved, this time to Jim’s side. The two officers and other men walked towards a black van and a sports utility vehicle, as Joe lead Jim to the black town car awaiting them against the opposite curb. In a daze Jim permitted himself to be lead to the car, first glancing from the Blackgate armored van to Gilzean and the approaching black town car once more.  He was leaving Gotham; he wasn’t going to jail and Victor Zsasz was going to live to see his execution. Jim braced himself preparing to elbow Joe in the face to escape.

 

Abruptly Gilzean stopped and snapped the fingers of his right hand. He turned and shouted across the street to Jim. “Oh yeah, and Gordon? Your boy also mentioned that little yacking bird you’re so keen on shutting up? Don’t worry, that’s being taken care of,” He paused and glanced at his wrist watch. “right about now.” He waved at Jim. “Enjoy!”

 

Jim swallowed wanting to vomit. Just what in the hell had Harvey done? Exposed his plan to Cobblepot? Trusted the man to carry out Zsasz’s killing? How could Jim trust that Oswald would keep his word? That Harvey wouldn’t get himself killed working for Penguin? He couldn’t just leave Gotham and run off to Canada, could he? It was what Harvey had sold himself for; to purchase Jim his freedom. Harvey loved Jim and would therefor sacrifice anything, do anything, even let a murderer walk free because he was in love with him. Jim felt tears prick his gaze and he got into the car and forced himself to suppress them. Now was not the time to think about Harvey; he had a new objective: to get out of Gotham, the United States and into Ontario Canada. From there he would go to an extremely populated place and lose himself; then and only then could he think about Harvey and remember him.

 

**One week later:**

Ontario was much like Gotham only cleaner. Jim, now Ben Ryan; lived in a halfway house and had just gotten a job as a short order line cook at a Mom and Pop eatery. He dressed the part mostly wearing jeans, tee-shirts and hoodies under a black, wool, pea coat.  His hair was darker from a brown dye, and he was electing to let it grow longer than his usual shorn appearance.  To further disguise himself he quit shaving and was growing out a short beard. Yet soon enough he would hide both his hair and face beneath a Toronto Maple Leaf’s cap.

 

In contrast to his previous life Jim portrayed Ben was a quiet man, who didn’t make friends or enemies. He smiled rarely, acted painfully shy and indifferent beneath his scruffy façade.  He wasn’t a joiner but stood at the edge of crowds just inside of where the wallflowers reigned. He went to the movies and listened to news feeds and Hockey games whenever possible.  He didn’t ask questions or answer any but he wasn’t rude about his silence, just polity refused social interactions where he had to participate past showing up. He walked or took public transport, hung out at the park on his days off and improvised ways to work out without belonging to a gym or having appropriate equipment.  He didn’t flirt with either sex and permitted his ambiguity to speak for itself regarding his sexuality.  He didn’t offer to do more than necessary, yet when asked to do a task he performed the task to expectation, neither to impress nor requiring the task to be redone.

 

In the privacy of his room Ben became Jim once more. He split his time between fantasizing and planning his next kill, or conversely lay in the fetal position on his bed or the floor sobbing quietly. He suspected that after a few more weeks of living as Ben that his tears would dry and he could think about moving on to another Provence. Yet as one month turned into three he spent far less time planning a kill and more time lying in his double bed missing Harvey. The sound of his voice, his laugh, the dirty jokes he told. He missed his smell, his touch, the way he dressed on and off duty, the food he ate; watching him eat; listening to him tell stories of his life. He missed hearing Harvey yelling through the door of his office and later still just a few feet from him in the bullpen. He missed Harvey’s easy way with people and his charm. He missed the way he sometimes chewed on the end of a pen cap when he was contemplating a case, and how his glasses perched upon his nose. He missed listening to the dime store pulp detective novels Harvey read to him some weekends or evenings. He missed everything about the older male, good and bad, and his heart felt crushed in his chest. He could barely breathe sometimes at the ache of how much he missed Harvey in his life. To remedy his mourning Jim did the only thing he knew how to do in such a situation; he moved on.

 

After a short stint in Manitoba, Jim continued West and ended up in Alberta, in Lethbridge. He got work at the city slaughter house working with the cattle his history as a war veteran and working homicides in Gotham key to his success there on the line.  He could kill, dissect, or clean; it didn’t matter to him as working with the flesh and bone of the animals fed into his immediate need to satiate his dark nature. Ben fit in well in the smaller town with only a population of one-hundred-seventeen-thousand and three-hundred and forty-nine. Not enough souls to prey on safely so Jim kept his fantasies to a minimum. In fact, it wasn’t that difficult for him to do so now that he was surrounded by death at work all day long. He could wash the stench of it from his skin and out of his bones every evening unlike when he was in Gotham. There, the continuous tension was enough to drive him to drink; to kill just to remain sane. In Lethbridge Alberta, everything moved slower. Him had a one-bedroom apartment and spent most of his off hours completely alone. The continual ache of Harvey’s absence drove him further and further into himself. Every time he saw a couple kiss, or hold hands he longed to be able just to speak to his former partner. He knew he couldn’t jeopardize everything that Harvey had done; was doing; to grant him his freedom so he didn’t dare call. Around two a.m. on a Saturday morning drunk to the near state of a coma, Jim surrendered and dialed Harvey’s work number to listen to his voice mail message. He closed his eyes and stopped breathing when Harvey deadpanned his information on the recording, choked off a sob of grief and hung up before the message finished. He lay on the floor of his room for several hours curled in upon himself bawling, and pleading for rescue. He spent the rest of the day numb and detached, drank water to flush out his system and stared at the wall unseeing from a recliner, having the laptop on with a music playlist he created upon his recent move, in the background just to have the illusion of company. Sunday, he didn’t really move until the evening when he took a short run and returned home, taking an over the counter sleeping medication to help him sleep through the night and went to bed. When Monday arrived, he put on his Ben mask and went to work, nodding that his weekend was indeed good if asked.

 

Four months; he hadn’t talked to Jim for over four months and it was killing him. Every day he went to work at the GCPD, and every week he performed some loathsome task for Penguin. It had been nearly four years that he hadn’t been a dirty cop that falling back into the life was a shock to his system. Not that it mattered; nothing much did now that Jim was gone. They couldn’t have contact because there was a man hunt on, and Harvey would be the third place the F.B.I. would look next to Jim’s mother or brother. Which made Harvey laugh because if Jim was going to turn anywhere for help it would be to him, never his family.  Harvey didn’t feel like the powers that be were scrutinizing him too closely; not with the way he was living; barely functioning at best, drunk and adversarial at his very worst.  He performed his duties to the best of his abilities, which had slipped since Jim’s arrest.

 

He had nightmares about the shooting and hated himself for ever hurting Jim. It didn’t matter that Jim had said he was proud of Harvey for being true to himself and the badge, all that mattered was that he had shot Jim and now they were separated by distance, time, Jim’s crimes and Harvey’s mistakes. He drank too much, stopped eating for the most part and lived on coffee, whiskey, two hours of sleep a night and regret.  For Cobblepot, he did what was asked of him without carrying about the consequences to himself or his career, and at work he did what he could to serve the people of Gotham with a decorum he neither felt nor cared too. It was their fault he was in this mess to begin with; the people of the city had driven Jim over the edge and started a chain of events that landed Harvey in abject misery. Jim was gone; inaccessible and Harvey despised everyone in the city that was responsible, including himself.

 

Even after four months every time Harvey’s phone rang he wondered if it would be Jim; or someone telling him that Jim was dead. Whenever there was a hang up on his work or private voice mail he wondered if it were Jim. Wondered if Jim could call him, would he? He might have respected Harvey’s choice to fire his thirty-eight, but that didn’t mean that he forgave him; or still loved Harvey. The heartbreaking truth was that Harvey didn’t know if Jim were alive, dead or still cared about him. He wanted to believe so but that just made everything much more complicated.

 

Boxing up Jim’s belongings was what broke Harvey. The smell of his clothes, dirty or clean; books that were his, kitchen gadgets he had purchased for them; every little thing that was in Harvey’s apartment reminded him of what he had lost; who he had lost.  Harvey knew that burning it all would only cut him deeper, but keeping it would signal that he might still be in touch with Jim to outsiders. With a heavy heart, he began boxing things up and donating them to the appropriate organizations. He kept a few things; a suit he just couldn’t give away, a book or two he knew Jim loved, post it notes and little reminders of their life together Harvey had collected or saved. The music account online that Jim had he kept as well, E-mail and any errant accounts that Harvey could shut down on Jim’s behalf he did.

 

On Friday nights Harvey went to the liquor store to stock up for the weekend ahead. For the next two days he drank, listened to music and ached for Jim; staring at the spot on the floor where his boyfriend had fallen the night he shot Jim.  The rest of the week when he got home from work he repeated the process but with mostly beer and a half a bottle of hard liquor just to make it through the night. During the day, he would drink doctored coffee that smelled of whatever cheap booze he could scrounge up and hide in his desk at work. The flask was never enough, although Harvey still carried it. He was assigned a new partner but Harvey didn’t bother learning much about him past his name, then christened him with a nick name and stuck with that. He never looked at him, always resented him, and just shut the hell up and did his job. Most of his pay check went to liquor and the power got shut off once because Harvey couldn’t be bothered to pay the bills on time, or at all. He slept on the couch if he slept at all, and stayed out of their bedroom as much as humanly possible, past walking through it to get to the bathroom or his clothes.  **Jim**. All Harvey wanted was to speak with him once more, hold him if possible and tell him that he loved him. It was an unrealistic dream as he didn’t even know where Jim was or what his new name might be, all he knew is that he was free of Gotham and in hiding.  As miserable as he was Harvey prayed that Jim was the opposite; that he was happy in his freedom and new life. He prayed the rosary for the first time in a long time at Church and used what unpickled brain cells he had remaining to pray for Jim often throughout each day. He wasn’t so certain anymore if God existed but if He did Harvey wanted only the best for his Jim; or his once Jim, Harvey supposed.

 

He managed to barely avoid any dressing downs at the precinct by staying just on the side of sober while on duty. Barnes had bigger fish to fry than one detective in his squad, but Oswald Cobblepot however noticed more than just Harvey Bullock’s slovenly appearance and the scent of booze and unwashed skin on him. It wasn’t that he required all of those in his external employment to present themselves in a particular manner, it was that he was concerned about Harvey’s behavior and the possibility that he could get himself suspended from duty. That would defeat the purpose of having him as an external employee and render him otherwise useless to Cobblepot’s growing empire. He directed Gilzean to prompt Harvey into more personable behavior and when that didn’t work he took it upon himself to lecture Harvey on the finer points of his ‘contractual obligations’ to Penguin’s organization. This caused Harvey to raise an eyebrow; any threat on his position meant that it directly affected Jim. Swallowing what little dignity he didn’t know he had left; Harvey took the path of least resistance and made certain that the next time he had to stand before Gilzean, he was showered and his shirt and suit dry cleaned. That kept one boss off his back and by default the other, so Harvey continued his slow, downward spiral into the abyss of hopelessness. Upon a second time being summoned to stand before Cobblepot in one month; Harvey was certain he had done nothing that could be criticized, as he had carried out every task set before him.

 

“How are you detective Bullock?”

 

The question made Harvey blink. Polite conversation? He wasn’t here for that, he was here for his next orders and since Cobblepot was giving them himself he knew it would not be a pleasant undertaking. “Well.” Harvey responded deadpan then fell back upon his knowledge of Oswald’s penchant for politeness and added, “And yourself?”

 

“Very well, thank you.” Cobblepot answered immediately then waved an accusatory finger up at Harvey. “And you sir, are a liar! I can see it in your eyes, detective. You are not a _well_ man.” Oswald motioned to the chair across from him. “Please, sit down.” Harvey complied stiffly, but obeyed none the less. “I thought it was high time for you and I to have a little chat. Without lies that is.” The warning was clear even if it was wrapped in pleasantries. Cobblepot smiled at Harvey while he assessed him. “Have you heard from our mutual friend, Benjamin Ryan?”

 

Harvey’s gaze narrowed. “Ben who?”

 

Cobblepot’s patience slipped a little but he continued. “ _Benjamin Ryan_ , an old friend of yours from the precinct.”

 

Understanding dawned upon Harvey. **Jim** ; Cobblepot was talking about Jim. That must be his assumed name. Harvey moved to sit upon the edge of his chair, he fought to keep his voice steady, sincere and his manner subservient to Penguin’s authority. “No.” Harvey stated his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and repeated the word. “Not since he went on vacation.” Harvey allowed knowing that the likelihood of them being under surveillance was small, but if Cobblepot wished to play on the side of caution then he would indulge him. “Have, have you?”

 

Cobblepot made a humming noise as if contemplating and smiled his oily best at Harvey. “I’m aware of his itinerary.  He’s well from what I hear, although, a post card would be nice in lieu of a phone call. But you know friends these days, always on the go. Busy, busy. Just like you detective. Perhaps **you** should consider taking a vacation yourself.”

 

“Would if I could, Mr. Cobblepot.” Harvey was hard pressed to show sincere gratitude but he was fairly certain by Penguin’s expression that he had. “I have obligations here to my bosses.” It was clear he was counting Cobblepot among them.

 

“Mmm, yes. Be that as it may, I have a gift for you.”  Penguin waved over his shoulder and one of his lackeys approached the table and set a seven by five by three box before him. Harvey stared at the red ribboned box and then looked back up at Cobblepot who motioned to it. “Open it! By all means, please, don’t stand on ceremony.”

 

Curious as Harvey was he hesitated and met Penguin’s gaze. “As grateful as I am, it would be impolite of me not to acknowledge that you’ve been so generous to me already, and to ask for more-“

 

“Well, you’re not _asking_ , are you? It’s a **gift** detective.” Cobblepot’s gaze darkened slightly in warning of an approaching storm. “Given in the spirit of mutual benefit on both our parts. Therefore, please; don’t keep me in suspense any longer.” He motioned to the box.

 

Mutual benefit? Was Penguin perhaps displeased with Harvey’s performance and was giving him a warning shot across the bow to mend his ways? But he had done everything asked of him; produced results. Was Cobblepot concerned about Harvey’s standing in the GCPD? That he would be suspended from duty? While he was curious it wasn’t enough to voice his questions so instead he reached for the box. Upon pulling up the top a cell phone was revealed. Fantastic; a direct way for Cobblepot to get a hold of him when duty hovered in the ether of his rapidly dissipating life.

 

“Well? What do you think?” Penguin asked excited as if the gift weren’t a convenience for his organization alone.

 

“It’s my color.” Harvey praised pulling the black cell phone out of the box. He set the box down upon the table surface and placed the phone in his pocket. “Thank you, Mr. Cobblepot.”

 

Cobblepot’s grin remained and he sighed plaintively. “Ah, detective Bullock I think you misinterpret my gift.” He shook a finger at Harvey as if to admonish him. “You perhaps don’t realize just how profoundly true love compels me to act.” He lowered his hand back to the table and motioned to where Harvey had secured the phone with his opposite hand. “There’s two numbers programmed in to it. The first is my office, and the second is none other than that of Benjamin Ryan!” Harvey paled instantly and Penguin cheered, clapping his hands and wiggling in his seat with enthusiasm. “You see? A true gift for our mutual friend and yourself.” He held up a warning hand as Harvey gapped down at his jacket pocket where the phone hung in the leather. “I wouldn’t call too often, but a little communication between two friends can be very therapeutic don’t you agree?”

 

Harvey started breathing again. “Yes. And, thank you Mr. Cobblpepot. You’re most generous.”

 

“I know.” Penguin dismissed smugly of himself with a wave of his hand. “Now, Butch has a task for you which I will leave you two gentlemen alone to discuss. It was good to see you again detective Bullock.”

 

“Thank you.” Harvey managed as Cobblepot vacated the chair and Butch Gilzean moved to stand alongside the table. Harvey stared at him; not caring in the least what he would be asked to do next; whatever it was, the risk would be well worth the reward he had just been granted.

 

Jim stared at the package he had signed for and placed on his kitchen counter top. The box was seven by five by three and Jim was immediately suspicious of it. He had not ordered anything online and had even informed the delivery person there was a mistake, yet here he stood staring at the small box that held a tracking label and his; _Ben’s_ ; address but no place of shipment origin. After ten minutes of avoiding the damn thing Jim risked opening the box only to find a cell phone. He knew a burner phone when he saw one. There was a card inside the box with a penguin holding an umbrella on it. Jim felt his gut clench and he opened the folded card to read:

_‘Dearest Jim,_

_A small token of our friendship._

_With warm regards,_

_Oswald.’_

Jim took the phone out of the box and turned it on, immediately noticing that there had been a missed call and voice mail left for him. He accessed the voice mail icon and pressed it listening to the electronic voice before abruptly hearing Harvey’s breathy, overwhelmed voice on the message.

 

“Jim! **Please** , I don’t know if you hate me or not; I have no idea what you’re thinking, where you are or, or what you’ve been thinking these past months. I’m sorry. I know you told me I did the right thing, but shooting you was the worst decision of my life. Loving you has been the best one I ever made. _Please_! Call me back, even if it’s to tell me that you hate me. I just need to hear it from you, I need- well, **you**. I love you. That hasn’t changed even if everything else could have on your end, it hasn’t on mine. _I love you_. Just, just call me okay?”

 

Jim’s knees gave out and he slumped down past the counter onto the floor and turned to put his back to the cabinets. He brought his knees up to his chest and held the phone to his ear. He replayed the message three times in a row with tears streaming down his face, his eyes closed and the crown of his head pressed back into the wood doors.  Harvey; the sound of his voice rolled over and through Jim’s system like an electrical storm. _Harvey_.

 

Jim slid the phone from his ear and looked at it in his hand; a life line and he went to the missed calls log and depressed the call icon to ring Harvey’s number.  He didn’t recognize the number as being Harvey’s but he committed it to instant memory now. As he listened to the tone ring his breath caught in his throat, suspended there as he waited for an answer.

 

“Jim?”

 

Jim sniffed and wiped tears with the heel of his left hand. “Harv?”

 

Harvey closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of the living room, his legs abruptly about to give out. “Jim? Baby? Don’t cry.”

 

“I can’t, can’t _breathe_. I miss you so much.”

 

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay Jim.” Harvey battled to keep his voice from tremoring as he reached out and grabbed a hold of the couch arm and hauled himself to sit down upon the closest cushion. “ **Listen** to me, you can breathe. I’m talkin’, I’m breathing, you can too. Just close your eyes and slow everything down. Just inhale in, and wait, wait, wait; now slowly exhale. Out, out, out, out, there you go and out. Better?”

 

“Yes.” Jim admitted having blindly obeyed Harvey’s direction. He took another few slow breaths and opened his eyes. “You?”

 

“I’m golden _now_.” Harvey grinned laying his head back against the ridge of the couch and wall. “Just hearing your voice? Makes everything better. God I’ve missed you.”

 

“Why did you do it Harvey? Sell yourself to Oswald? I’m not worth the price. Not if it means you’re dirty.”

 

It had come quicker to this than Harvey had been expecting. He ran his free hand back through his hair, holding it back from his face rather than letting it go.  “Don’t you get it Jim? I would do _anything_ for you, **anything** at all. I was dirty before you, it’s not much of a stretch now.”

 

Regardless of what Harvey was saying aloud Jim knew it cost his ex-boyfriend dearly to go back to his corrupt ways. “I want you to stop.”

 

“I can’t. Not until the debt is paid. You’re safe Jim; wherever you are stay there and be happy. I want you to- “

 

“No.” Jim interrupted sharply. “I’m not happy until we’re together again. But I get it; I know that I’m a target and have to lay low. Which means we’re apart for now. I want you to know, that’s not what I want; I want us together; like we were.”

 

Harvey closed his eyes and tugged at his hair once before releasing it. “Then why Jim? Why did you reveal yourself to me?”

 

“Because Zsasz threatened that he would talk and I had to get into Blackgate and clean up after myself. I’m sorry but I never wanted to involve you; it’s just that you’re a better cop than anyone else at work.” Jim grimaced; where he _used_ to work. “I tried to get Alvarez to piece it together but he just,” Jim sighed. “Then Tuttle failed me, and then Holt; I knew I’d never get caught if didn’t reach out to you.” Jim apologized once more and curled a little more upon himself as he waited for Harvey’s response.

 

“Why’d you choose Zsasz then? He’s a professional,”

 

“I know that.” Jim reasoned. “That’s precisely why him. You needed a collar; to bring an end to the bodies and I couldn’t let someone else get the credit. It had to be us; **you**. I thought you’d be promoted - “

 

“Jesus on the cross, Jim; I don’t _fucking_ **care** about that!” Harvey exclaimed losing his temper a little. “I was happy just working with you; being your partner. I was happy with just the two of us together at home, at work; don’t you see that’s **all** I wanted?”

 

Jim covered his mouth as Harvey was talking to keep from starting to cry once more. He lowered his hand and placed it over his knee. “It’s all I want but now, I’ve gone and fucked us up.”

 

“Stop it!” Harvey blasted hitting a frustrated fist against his lap. “Listen to me Jim, forget it. Forget about all of it! The mistakes, the shooting, the fact that we’re apart. Just forget all that shit and think about this: I love you, you love me, and in a few months, we’re going to be back together. I’ll leave Gotham; I’ll come to you; we’ll take up where we left off.”

 

“But you sold yourself- “

 

“And I’ll figure something out. It can’t be worth more than a year’s work. You two are friends. We’ll give him back the money and then he’ll have nothing left on us. I’ll quit the force.”

 

“But your pension- “

 

“Fuck my pension! If I can have you I don’t care about anything else; I’ll just deal with it as it comes.” Harvey straightened his fist out and rubbed it down his thigh. “No, you tell me what’s going to happen.”

 

Jim took a deep breath. “In a few months; it’ll be a year since I left. You’ll quit the department, we’ll pay back the money I owe Oswald and you’ll join me here. We’ll start our lives over together.”

 

“That’s right. There’s only one aspect we’ve got left to talk about.”

 

“What I did; and still need to do?” Jim predicted sparing Harvey having to find the words on his own to mention the murders by name.  “I haven’t killed since leaving Gotham. I work in a slaughter house now. It helps. I think between that and having you here I can stop; or at least slow it down to a bare minimum.”

 

Harvey bit his bottom lip and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “I’ll take that Jim. Okay? That’ll be your promise to me.”

 

Jim couldn’t help but smile a little. “Anything that keeps you home with me, I’ll try.”

 

“Alright then. I promise I’ll be there the instant I can. Just stay put and don’t risk coming back.” The last thing Harvey wanted was for Jim to go back to jail. “I mean it Jim.”

 

“I promise.” Jim swore dutifully feeling his chest warming with immense affection. “Promise me something in return?”

 

“Name it.”

 

“Take care of yourself? Don’t forget to eat, stop drinking so much, and for god’s sake quit smoking if you’ve started. Please? I want you to be relatively well when I see you again.”

 

Harvey laughed the sound making Jim’s smile broaden. “Okay, Junior. I promise to clean up my act. But just so you know? I’m not smoking.”

 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh a little and the sound washed over Harvey and brought tears to his eyes.  “Okay then.”

 

Harvey closed his eyes to both stem the tears as well as to feel the emotions churning inside of his chest. “Please tell me you’ve been taking care of _yourself_?”

 

“I have.” Jim promised. “I just feel like I’m this other person all the time now, and hearing your voice; it reminds me of who I really am. Which is good. For the first time since we’ve been apart I feel happy.”

 

“I’m glad. I’ve been a miserable son of a bitch but now? I’m golden.”

 

“You said that already.” Jim teased affectionately. “I’m sorry, leaving you in Gotham- “

 

“Hey!” Harvey interrupted firmly, opening his eyes. “What did I tell you about the past? We don’t need it. This is a new start for us; a better one. You just keep that in your head and when I come to you, everything will feel in its place again. I _promise_ you that.”

 

Concern flooded Jim. “You’re not going to hang up right now, are you?”

 

“No, Jim. We’re gonna talk till the batteries; drained.”

 

**One year later:**

Harvey was free; Falcone was dead thus releasing him from his obligation to the man for getting Jim out of Blackgate the first time. Oswald Cobble pot had a year of unerring loyalty and favors from Harvey, and had been paid back every red cent he had spent purchasing Jim a new identity and expenses for rescuing Jim on the way to jail. He had even been reimbursed for the two burner phones he had purchased Jim and Harvey. Lastly, Harvey had retired from the GCPD and taken an early pension. It was half the money he would have been entitled too had he waited, but Harvey had more important places to go and people to be with than worrying about collecting a full pension.

 

Lethbridge, Alberta reminded Harvey of a niche, small town, on any part of the upper Eastern seaboard, from the 1970’s. The people were friendly and the town easy to navigate and nothing like Gotham. There was no tension, no dangerous darkness, no roaring maw steadily approaching to swallow you whole.  Harvey arrived midafternoon and went straight to Jim’s small house not too surprised to find that his younger boyfriend wasn’t at home. It was the middle of the week and he was probably at work, but Harvey wasn’t about to ambush him at the slaughter house and draw unnecessary attention to him. Jim had already explained what simplistic backstory he used as way of explanation for Ben Ryan from childhood to adult. That way their stories would be straight when Harvey joined him in Canada. As it was he hadn’t told Jim he was coming, wishing to surprise him. They had talked numerous times over the months through phone messages and texts on their burner phones and only recently had Jim revealed his location to Harvey. They had agreed to keep it hidden until Harvey was nearly ready to make the move.

 

That day had arrived and Harvey drove through town and found a ma and pop type diner to stop at and wait for Jim to get off work.  He asked the waitress if she knew when the slaughter house closed for the day and was politely told there were three shifts, then she asked him if he was looking for work. He replied that he was; just not at the slaughter house, and he took a chance and asked her if she knew Ben Ryan. She did, and was able to tell Harvey that he worked the second shift and would get off work around seven. Harvey thanked her, ordered something to eat and coffee to settle in to wait.  A quarter of seven he paid his bill and drove back over to Jim’s house and parked on the opposite side of the street.  Harvey was deep in thought staring at Jim’s house when in his peripheral vision he saw a man walking his dog towards him on the sidewalk. He ignored both owner and pet, but jumped slightly when the man stopped alongside of his Ford 150 and knocked on the passenger window. Harvey turned the key and rolled down the passenger window.

 

“Oh hello.” The man said. “Can I help you son? Are you lost?”

 

“No, not at all.” Harvey explained complete with a polite smile. “I uh, am a friend of the guy who lives there,” Harvey pointed to the house. “Just waiting for him to get home; a surprise visit kind of thing. Is it okay if I park here?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Sure is.” The man said. “You know Mr. Ryan? He’s a quiet one. He pets Ellie though when we pass by and he’s in the yard.” The man glanced down at his dog and petted her head.

 

Harvey chuckled congenially. “Yep. That sounds like Ben. Always did have a soft spot for dogs.” Jim never mentioned wanting nor having a pet to Harvey, in fact had discouraged Harvey from taking a stray cat home instead of to the pound where it could be evaluated and treated properly.

 

“Yeah, yeah. He does at that I suppose.” The man grinned at Harvey. “Where are my manners? I’m Paul Rickterman.” Paul held his hand into the passenger window out to Harvey.

 

“Harvey.” Harvey introduced of himself shaking Paul’s hand dutifully. He didn’t offer a last name and Paul was too polite to request one. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Paul assured him. “And well, you can’t see old Ellie here but she’s a sweetheart.” Paul looked down at his dog. “Say hi to Harvey, Ellie.” Harvey heard the distinct sound of panting on the opposite side of the passenger door and a low whine. “That’s my girl.” Paul raised his gaze to Harvey’s once more. “I’m just headed inside. Would you like to wait for Mr. Ryan in my house? I can make you some coffee, or tea if you want?”

 

“That’s very kind of you Paul, but I really want to surprise Ben so I think I’ll just wait here. If that’s all right with you and Ellie.”

 

Paul laughed. “Oh, Ellie doesn’t mind much now. Come to think of it, neither do I.” He patted the window sill of the truck and grinned at Harvey. “Well you enjoy your evening now. And if you change your mind I’m number 1582, just ring the bell and we’ll feed you dinner.”

 

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.” The two exchanged further pleasantries and then Harvey was left alone once more. He was too anxious to play guest at someone’s table while he was this close to seeing Jim. About twenty minutes later a second-hand motorcycle pulled into the driveway, and Harvey knew he was seconds away from the reunion he had dreamed off since he and Jim had parted months prior, and felt giddy with it. Jim got off the bike, opened the garage door manually and pulled his motorcycle inside and parked it beside a Jeep. Helmet still on, Jim closed the garage door from the inside and Harvey sat breathless. His heart was thundering in his rib cage and Harvey waited another ten minutes before he could no longer stand their separation any further and started his truck. He pulled into Jim’s driveway and killed the engine. Seconds later he was out of the vehicle and standing before Jim’s front door. Swallowing to moisten his abruptly dry mouth, Harvey reached up and rang the doorbell. It seemed to take forever for Jim to answer the door, but the wait was well worth it when Harvey saw Jim’s face light up like the sun upon seeing him for the first time in over a year.

 

Jim launched himself at Harvey and was in his arms in an instant, hugging the older male within an inch of his life.  Harvey chuckled and wrapped his arms around Jim, one hand trailing down the back of his hair that reached the top of his spine.  “It’s so long.” He said with a light laugh. “And so dark.” Jim squeezed Harvey tighter.  “A beard too? What are you doing Junior? Trying to steal my look?”

 

Jim pulled back and gazed at Harvey with love and tears in his eyes, his smile beaming. “I’ll shave for you and cut my hair if you want, but first I need to kiss you.” Harvey didn’t argue as Jim’s mouth covered his own. They stood in the door way for long moments kissing one another, tears upon their cheeks and finally Jim drug Harvey inside still kissing him. He used a foot to close the door and Harvey pressed Jim’s back against it and Harvey locked the door, before Jim turned and pushed Harvey to one of the entry way walls.

 

They continued kissing and their hands began to grab at clothing and flesh, each desperate to pull the other closer and consume him with mouth and touch. Harvey severed the kiss first and embraced Jim tightly to him, pressing his face into the younger male’s neck and nuzzled him. “I missed you so much, Baby.” Harvey felt a sob leave his chest and clog in his throat. “I love you.”

 

“Love you too.” Jim whispered rubbing his scruffy cheek against Harvey’s well-trimmed beard. “There’s a million things to say but right now, I just need to make love with you.”

 

“Great minds, eh Junior?” Harvey teased, breathless and aching. He began kissing Jim’s throat and the underside of his jaw as he ground his hips against Jim’s. “Where’s the bedroom?”

 

“Stop pinning me and I’ll show you.” Harvey groaned and reluctantly pulled back from Jim before taking the younger male’s face in his hands and kissing him tenderly once more. He stroked his thumbs up Jim’s cheekbones as he withdrew and gazed into his boyfriend’s beautiful, blue eyes. He tried to say something but his voice failed him and Jim nodded once, unable to speak as well. Harvey pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes.

 

“Show me.” He managed to croak. Jim was certain Harvey was speaking of the location of the bedroom in addition to how much Jim loved him. He took Harvey’s hand and led the way, the two slowly disentangling from one another. In under a minute they were in Jim’s bedroom and far less frantically pulling off one another’s clothes. They took their time once they were naked to re-learn one another’s bodies and the changes that had taken place over their year separation. Jim was less muscular than he had been before leaving Gotham; Harvey was thinner from drinking so much and eating so little; his body softer and skin paler somehow.  They worshiped one another physically and maintained as much eye contact as they could, both seemingly afraid that if they closed their eyes or looked away the other would disappear. Harvey begged for Jim to take him first, and then afterward they re-explored one another and Harvey took Jim.  Their love making was deep and slow; mouths, hands and bodies touching one another continually, their bodies burning warm and yielding to one another.

 

Two hours passed before they collapsed against one another and held tight, laying as they used to love to: Harvey on his back, Jim halfway on top of him, head resting on Harvey’s left shoulder and chest. Their breathing calmed, perspiration dried, and bodies pooled into a single mass of flesh and bone. Jim closed his eyes and stroked a palm and down Harvey’s abdomen to his chest and back again, while Harvey stroked the back of Jim’s head and neck.

 

“Well,” Harvey voiced contentedly. “ **That** hasn’t changed.”

 

Jim chuckled. “It only ever gets better.”

 

“You’re a big sap.” Harvey teased kissing Jim’s forehead.

 

“Me? I distinctly remember the **both** of us crying during sex.” Jim chided tenderly drawing a thumb over Harvey’s right nipple and enjoying the sigh of pleasure it wrought.

 

“I never said I wasn’t a softie.” He kissed Jim once more. Several minutes of silence passed between them. “Is there anything to eat in the house?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank the saints; I didn’t want to have to go out.”

 

Jim grinned and raised his head to look down into his lover’s features. “We’re not leaving this bed for the next several days. I hope you realize that.”

 

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, Junior.” Harvey beamed.


End file.
